


Irony of Thieves and Kings

by SylvaniusOStephans



Series: The Irony of [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 63,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7301947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvaniusOStephans/pseuds/SylvaniusOStephans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Book 1 of the Irony of Series</p>
<p>Werner Whiston is sure that he hit his head. That's the only logical explanation for how this could have happened to him. Considering who he was, his life wasn't great. Sure, it was mostly normal, or he hoped it was, until now. Everything was now messed up. He had actually gotten pretty used to his mostly messed up life, until he tripped over a trashcan and gave himself a concussion. Probably. That was the only thing he could think of that explained the fact that when he woke up, there was freaking giant flowers and rolling hills when he was in a park. What's going to happen when he stops being able to tell fantasy from reality, and is drawn into a world of kings who keep trying to get him to talk about his feelings, knights who may or may not be trying to kill him off weekly, creatures as tall as trees telling him he has issues, and thieves who are more noble than any who wear the title has been? Surely, he thinks, his brother should be the one here. After all, he is many things, a hidden prodigy, a genius, a tech head, and a master at hiding what he can do. But he is most certainly NOT a hero, and he never should be one. He never will be if he has anything to say about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was always the same. Every morning, he woke up, at exactly 6:15, stayed in his room working on his latest project until 7 am, then he got back in bed, and waited for his mother to bang on his door, calling him lazy, then going next door to wake his brother while he purposely got out one of his older t-shirts, white of course, and threw on his uniform over it. By 7: 30 am, his brother would be done in the bathroom, and he could mess up his uniform, shaking a few drops of water on his black button up uniform, undoing a few of the upper buttons, or doing them wrong, messing his strawberry blonde hair until it looked ruffled, instead of perfectly in place like it always did when he woke. Next, he would rush downstairs, grab some sort of fruit, and "forget" something upstairs until it was time to go.

Honestly, it was pitiful exactly how much of his days were fully planned. He knew exactly what grade he would make on every assignment before he turned it in, knew who he would talk to long before he did, and planned exactly how much acting was necessary for everyone to think he was nothing more than a wanna be druggie. Which was stupid beyond belief. Someone only had to talk to him, without his numerous masks up to know exactly how unintelligent it was to think he was anything less than a genius. Then again, he thought to himself as he rushed back upstairs for his fifth, and worst, draft of his latest homework assignment, it was laughable to think he let anyone near him long enough to actually see through his masks. His parents thought he was a delinquent, his twin brother thought he was nothing but a poser, and everyone else thought he was going to end up in juvie, or jail, before graduation. If he reached graduation.

No one knows how to deal with him, compared to Darius, the perfect. His twin brother was a straight A student, who was a sports star, in both basketball and baseball, intelligent as hell, with a great sense of humor. Darius had the better name, the better friends, the better image, the better life. God he hated the idiot.

On the other hand, he doubted he would put up with half the crap his brother had to on a daily basis. It was better for both of them that Darius got the good attention and all the pressure, while he stayed in the shadows.

Finally, the call for him to hurry up came. He "rushed" downstairs, his tie messy, well messier than it was when he went upstairs. He jumped in his brother’s car, some brand he never bothered to actually learn, and waited for Darius the perfect to get on to him before he put his seatbelt on.

"Why do you always look like trash?" Darius asked, exasperated. His usual good boy image always dropped when it was just the two of them.

He smirked at his annoyed brother. "Now, now Darry, dear, don’t be like that." He loved watching Darius' hands tighten against the wheel. It was hilarious. His brother always looked like he wanted to hit him, but after nearly two years of having the same exact conversation every day, he knew that Darius wouldn’t.

"Must you call me that every day?"

"It's worked for two years, why change it, Darry dear?"

Cue the grinding of teeth. He thought it was funny that Darius hadn't lost the same sensitivity that he had once. Now it was just habit, and he meant none of it.

"Werner," Darius ground out, "If you don’t shut up in the next ten seconds, I will tell the entire school that you snuck out again last night."

He shrugged. "Whatever, Darry, it doesn’t matter. No one would be surprised."

"True. Who did you meet up with last night?"

That made him smirk. He half wondered if Darius knew that he "snuck out" to do homework in the abandoned park near their house, not to do drugs, or meet up with someone. Then again, Darius thought that the time he spent out was to meet up with a gang he apparently joined. Yah, right.

Idiot.

"No one." He admitted, knowing that his brother wouldn’t believe him. Sure enough, Darius snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Fine, don’t tell me."

Werner smirked, but hid it. "If you insist."

He honestly didn’t lie very often, in fact, he mostly told the truth. He just didn’t tell the entire truth. Which was fine. It led more people to believe that he was something he never would be. Graduation was only a few months away, and everyone was still surprised he was still in school. He was, to the astonishment of the rest of the school, more than aware that there was a bet around the school to guess when he would drop out. It started, as far as he was aware, in freshmen year, and continued with people losing money every day.

Unlike his brother, he wasn’t naturally good at school. He had to force himself to learn. By the time he had figured out how to absorb the information that came so easily to his brother, he was already called a problem child. He was seven when he realized why his brain didn’t work the same way that everyone else's did. He was just wired differently. It wasn’t a bad thing, but it meant that had to consciously shift the way he learned. He needed to work with his hands. In classes like computer, science, engineering, and art, he did the best. He could do better in the core classes, but by the time he figured out how, it was too late, and he had a certain reputation that wasn’t going to go away.

The car came to a rough stop, and he was about to make a joke about Darius working on his parking skills. It died on his lips when his twin was looking at him with a far too serious expression. "What?" He asked stupidly, inwardly cringing.

"Look, mom and dad are going to sit you down soon. They are going to ask what you are going to do with your life, and if they don’t like your answer, mom told me dad's considering kicking you out on our birthday. I figured I should warn you that if you don’t answer right, dad's going to pack your stuff up and throw it outside as soon as midnight hits on your birthday. They are sick of dealing with you and your crap. Hell, so am I. The only reason I'm warning you is because, unlike them, I still believe my twin brother exists somewhere deep inside you. We need that Werner to show up, and soon. If not, well you'd better make plans to stay with one of your gang members."

And with that, Werner mentally said fuck it. He got out of the car, grabbed his bag, and walked off. He had nothing due that day, and already knew that no one would miss him if he skipped. He knew that his parents were pissed, but seriously? He pulled out his crappy MP3 player, stuffed the old ear buds in his ears, and turned it up.

The words were loud enough that the world around him could probably hear them, but all he cared about was that he couldn't think when it was that loud. Or at least, it muffled his thoughts enough that he could just not think for a while. He scrubbed his dark green eyes with his fist once he was far enough away.

He was so tired of his brother ruining his acts. He mentally calculated how much trouble he would be in for skipping. It should be fine, he had only missed one day, but he would end up with detention for a day, maybe two, depending on how bad of a mood Mr. Greensmith, the principle of Little Haven Academy, a private school that he should have been kicked out of years ago, but since his mother was in city hall, there was no way they would. The publicity would suck.

He turned his music up even higher and tried to drown out his thoughts with it. It wasn’t working. He was too wired to relax. He needed to get rid of some energy first. He shrugged off his jacket, and took off his uniform shirt, crumbling and stuffing them both in his bag. He was getting weird looks from those around him, few of whom recognized him as the son of Judge Abigail Whiston, who was running for some new position, DA or something like that. Their father, who stayed "home" mostly nowadays, working in the school's council of all places, and sold his Mechanic shop years ago, was known as her greatest supporter. In public.

At home, well that was a different story. His father was never home, even if that’s what the rest of the city thought. Jonathan Whiston enjoyed “Volunteer work". Any and every natural disaster that happened, anywhere in the world, he was there. The funny part was that while there were pictures of him helping, the man actually didn’t do more than drink foreign alcohol and yell at people to get back to work.

When he was home, he went to every single publicity event that he could drag Judge Whiston to, signed as little of his paperwork as possible, and lorded his position over him. They would sometimes bring Darius with them to play perfect little family. He would see them sometimes on TV, or a magazine while he's at the library. He hardly ever knew when they were going out. Of course, the next day, Darius would complain most of the way to school.

He blinked away his thoughts, and barely missed running into some old guy.

"Watch where you're going!" He yelled, waving his cane and almost whacking Werner with it.  
"Children these days." Was muttered. He shouldn’t have heard it over the music, but he did.

To his surprise, he ended up near the school anyway. He glanced around, making sure no one was near, before snorting quietly to himself, and turning off his MP3. He shoved it in his pocket, and started pulling out his uniform top again, buttoning it up and putting the blazer on top. He glanced at the clock tower on the outskirts of the campus. Huh, he still had about ten minutes before it was time for class to start. He opened the front door, and ignored the way everyone was staring at him. It had taken a while, but he was now used to the looks. He had grown up in the public eye after all. Werner was used to the looks, or at least, the usual hostile looks.

Today, they seemed to be looks of pity. Which meant that Darius hadn't kept his mouth shut. Again.

Idiot.

He wanted to duck his head, blush, and basically hide away. Not that he would. He carefully adjusted his stance from in a hurry to relaxed. It was easy enough to straighten his posture, and stretch his arms over his head.

No one was speaking to him today, which was fine, he didn’t expect anyone to. Casually, he ran his hand through his hair, and adjusted his bag over his shoulder. Like most of the students, he didn’t have an actual backpack, but more of a shoulder bag. Of course, Darius, nerd that he was, could actually get away with having a backpack and not be teased for it.

He mentally wondered if he would be able to get away with it if he actually tried, before shoving the thought away. It didn’t matter. He needed to focus on his patterns that he had created, and hope that everyone played their parts. He knew they would. He had grown up with the same class. A few came, and a few left, but most of them had been together since kindergarten. Then again, most of them had been together long before that, going to the same nursery as two years olds. At the moment, there were fifty-seven seniors in his graduating class, and forty eight of them were from the same preschool as he was.

If that wasn’t sad, he didn’t know what was.

Every single one of his classmates had one thing in common, a single trait that even he couldn't suppress sometimes. They all loved to gossip. Growing up together made them more prone to loving it. If someone was dating outside the school, they were looked down on, but that didn’t mean the rest of the class didn’t know everything about the person. It was also funny how none of the classes communicated. The gossip that the seniors knew wasn’t the things that the juniors, sophomores, or freshmen knew. They all stayed with their own grade, and the only time you ever saw grades mix was during sports, or gym classes. There were a few seniors, such as himself, that were in the junior art classes, but that was only because there weren't enough of them to have a senior one.

He moved towards his first class, completely relaxed, and lost himself in his mind, trusting himself to actually make it to his seat without any input. To his annoyance, there was already someone sitting on his desk. Good ol' Darius the Perfect strikes again.

"Hey," his twin said semi-softly, "I didn’t mean to upset you this morning."

Punching someone before school, Werner reminded himself, tightening his grip on his bag, was a very bad idea.

"Of course you didn’t." He snorted. Darius would never intentionally upset anyone.

How sad was it that he could hear the sarcasm dripping in the thought.

"What can I do to fix this?"

Werner wanted to say that it could never be fixed. He couldn't lower his masks, because no one would believe that he was anything more than someone destined for jail.

"You could go to your own class, Darry dear." He dismissed, lowering his bag to the ground, exactly an inch and a half from the back right leg of the chair. He raised his eyebrow at his brother, and watched as he blushed and moved away from his seat.

"We'll talk about this later, Werner." Darius told him, picking up his own bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

Werner paused for a moment. "Oh, don’t bother waiting for me today."

Darius snorted. "Of course not. You know you're going to get in trouble again, right? What am I saying, of course you are."

He bit back the 'thanks for throwing my business out there again, Darius the perfect' with more than a little trouble. Why did his brother insist on always throwing out his business? Then again, why did people actually gossip about it? After all these years, it wasn’t anything different, nor was it anything actually interesting. Whatever. It didn’t matter, and it wasn’t worth thinking about.

He reached into the front pocket of his bag, and picked two mechanical pencils, a big eraser, and a black ink pen. He put them all on the left side of his desk where he could easily reach them, before grabbing his book for the class, and then his notebook. The book was always beneath the notebook. Always.

It wasn't ever on purpose though. He never meant to do it, but he always did. Why? Because everything had a place, at all times. There was nothing that annoyed him more than needing something and not being able to find it.

The classes passed as he knew they would, slowly, but steady. Time never sped up or slowed down, he knew, even if it didn't always feel like it.

“Mr. Whiston, if you actually did your homework to an acceptable level, and don't get it out in the next five seconds, you will end up failing my class. Now take your head out of the clouds, and into the classroom, before I give you detention for the rest of the semester, and make you have to take summer school.”

If there was one thing Werner hated, it was someone spewing his business in front of a lot of people. It was enough to make him have to take a deep breath to keep from punching the teacher, no substitute, lovely, in the face. There are better ways to get detention, he reminded himself, reaching in his bag and yanking out the three page assignment. Maybe, his bad side argued, but there is no way that is more fun.

He snorted to himself. Of course, because he did, everyone loved to throw his business out there. He laid the assignment on his desk, and looked up at the wanna-be teacher. He would not hand something to anyone, or take anything directly from someone’s hands. It was a weird quirk that he had from the time he started school. At the man’s look, he knew this was going to be one of those times where he didn't have a choice. All of his teacher knew how he felt about it, and didn't make him, possibly in respect of his mother and brother. When they were gone, they always left a note that said not to take things directly from him, or make him give things to them. He picked up the paper with a grimace, and held it out. He carefully pried his fingers off the pages as soon as they were in the hand of the other.

This was going to be one of those days then. Great.

Sometimes, when the teacher felt like being cruel, or the subs didn’t know any better, they would make him, probably hoping to either screw him up even more, or make him get over it. He clenched and relaxed his grip on his black trousers, wrinkling them even more than they already were. The sub, as he was going to call him, was not worth remembering. He was an older man, with brown hair that was turning white at the tips of his forehead, and dark brown eyes.

Everything about him was normal, from the slight limp he walked with, he must have messed up his right knee, his brain told him helpfully, to the slightly hunched over figure he had. How boring, he sighed mentally.

He tried not to read the name on the blackboard, but gave up when his glance was enough to know that this man was Mr. Jameson.

As the man started telling them the assignment, he got lost in his mind again. Who was this man to threaten him with failing a class, or detention for that long? No one. In fact, he knew his grades well enough to know he had to be making around a seventy- three. Easily passing.

His day wasn't getting any better. By the time lunch came, some students decided, apparently, that teasing him was a good idea.

Words are easily ignored. Someone dumping your entire book bag over your head? Textbooks and everything? May have required slight medical attention.

He tried, really hard, to not touch the burning annoyance on his forehead. The nurse told him he was lucky. If the textbook had hit him just a little bit lower, it would have hit his eye. Now though, the skin was butterflied together on top of his left eye. He had to keep his expression neutral as well. It was driving him nuts, but any movement in the muscles caused a sharp pain. No rolling his eyes today, or raising his eyebrow.

He debated going back to class, there wasn't very much time left, and he already had both his homework assignment, and a pass to go home. On the other hand, while he only wanted to ice the swelling muscles, he knew his father was home today, thanks to a gala tonight that he and his wife were going to.

Free night. Great.

It really was great. It meant he could listen to actual music he liked, not what everyone wanted him to, work at home, on the kitchen table instead of under a light at the park, and actually get to sleep at a normal time. If all the lights were off when they got home, the others would assume he went out, and most likely not check his room where he would happily be sleeping.

His eyes lit up slightly from the thought of a normal night, but dulled again when he took in the sight in front of him. Yes, tonight, he would get to listen to whatever he wanted, act however he wanted, and pretend that he always could. Today on the other hand, he had to deal with his brother.

Darius stood just out of view. If someone asked him, he would be able to say he had no idea what was going on, and be telling the truth. His friends, on the other hand, wouldn’t be so lucky. The guy who had dumped his bag over his head was in the middle of the baseball team, being shoved around.

"Darius!" He complained loudly, stopping the idiots from messing with Arthur Golding. Both his brother, and the group turned to him. They seemed frozen, and completely unsure of themselves, which was an interesting difference compared to before he spoke. His brother, on the other hand, had long since perfected the deer- in- the- lights look. Not that it actually worked on him. All he ever felt was a twinge of guilt, before the feeling faded. "Damn it, Darius! I wanted to do that."

Why did it always make his chest hurt when his brother looked at him like that? It was a mixture of disappointment, surprise, and cruel pleasure.

"You…you did?" Darius asked, surprise was dominant on his features, but both of them knew it was only there because he wanted it there.

"Yes, you big lummox! I can't now though, thank you ever so much, Darry Dear." He sarcastically told his brother, careful to keep his expression blank.  
One of the idiots decided to prove that they were good for nothing outside of sports. "You don’t look angry."

The smarter ones, who knew they existed?, shoved him slightly. "Shut up! You know who that is, right?"

"Darius's younger brother?" the idiot answered.

Werner couldn't help the flash of pure fury that passed over his features. There was a reason he had a reputation, even if it was mostly false. Almost all the best lies have at least a hint of truth. His truth was that he had a temper. Mostly, he was calm, but sometimes, even he couldn't control it.

"That’s Werner Whiston! The one who stabbed a guy with a pencil for pissing him off until someone had to pull him off! He's the one who is an unofficial member of the Ghostly Knights! You don’t piss off Werner Whiston if you want to live!" The smarter one hissed.

Alright, firstly, he did stab a guy with a pencil because he had been hurting this woman, and when he heard the bones in her wrist crack, so did his temper. No one had to pull him off, the woman called the police, and she thanked him, before letting him run off into the alleys.

Second, the Ghostly Knights were supposed to be called the Ghostly Knives, but people kept messing it up, so only those who misheard it called it that. He most certainly was not a member of a gang. He had too much to do to actually have an after school activity. Add that to the fact that he didn’t believe in ghosts, and well, no. It wasn’t happening.

And, thirdly, he had never killed anyone. Thus making the last statement utter crap.

"No," Werner agreed, mostly because it was good for his reputation, "You don’t want to piss me off. You wouldn’t like me when I am angry. Now, unless you would like to see me angry, I would suggest going back to whatever pitiful lives you lead."

"But I was just-" Werner cut his brother off with a dark glare.

"I know what you were trying to do, idiot. Next time, let me get my own damned revenge, alright? Now, if you don’t mind, I've got a headache the size of Antarctica, and I just want to sleep for a few hours. Good bye, and goodnight."

Keep calm, don’t turn around, Werner! Make an awesome exit. He could do that. He had somehow managed to have the entire conversation without having blood running down his face.

"You are such a coward, Werner. We both know you wouldn’t have done anything to Golding, and you are too weak to actually do something anyway. Just like we both know you're going to go drink, or whatever else you do these days." And, there he is. Darius the Perfect has finally given way to Darius. The real one.

Werner paused for a moment, debating the pros and cons of responding to him. On one hand, it would be extremely satisfying, and be good for his reputation, on the other hand, he would probably be bleeding again. Eugh, sometimes he hated common sense more than he hated trying to not freak out when he saw blood. So, like a good little slave to logic, he just walked off.

"Mom and dad hope you won't come back when you leave. They told me a couple of weeks ago that they hope that they would just get the call instead of having to guess with you. You know the one, from the police saying that you're dead. Hell, some days, I hope I'm the one who answers the phone."

As it was, Darius, the real one, not the mask, was a jerk, and enjoyed trying to upset him. Not that Werner would ever tell him, or anyone else, but he was extremely good at it. But Werner was better at pretending it didn’t affect him.

"I'll see you later, Darry Dear." He threw over his shoulder with a smirk in his twin's direction.

The smirk became a little more real when he heard his brother scream not to call him that. Satisfaction was clear in his eyes, he noticed as he passed the trophy case and caught his reflection. That, and the haziness he connected with trying to suppress everything else. As soon as he was gone, he let himself feel everything.

It made him feel like a girl, but honestly, as soon as he acknowledged it, the feelings suddenly weren't as suffocating as they had been. It was either a few moments of intense feelings, or weeks of snappiness. . After a few seconds, sure enough, he was indifferent again. Nothing Darius said was anything new, or was it anything worth reacting to. If he did, it would give the idiot power over him, and show that Darius was something he wasn’t.

Calm was good. Calm meant you could react to things without being held back by annoying emotions. Calm meant he didn’t drop his head phones like three times, and his hands weren't shaking as he turned on his MP3 player. Calm meant he didn’t have to turn on his favorite symphony to try and get himself back together.

He did anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

For some stupid reason, his ear buds just wouldn’t stay. After trying far too many times, he gave up, and just let one hang down. He didn’t really bother with anything else. He was perfectly content at the moment.

On his way, he had stopped by a convenience store, and bought an apple juice, and a bag of chips. Sitting here, hidden from the world in an overgrown part of the park, he felt at peace for the first time in a long time. He had thrown his uniform blazer and button up in his bag again, and felt the rough bark easily through the thin cotton t-shirt. The grass was cool under his hands, but warm at the same time. He raked his fingers on his left hand through the soft grass, letting it tickle his hands, while his right held a book that was propped up against his knees.

It was times like this where he completely at peace with himself. He loved times where he could just relax. His head wasn’t hurting anymore, and he still had some of the juice. He had his favorite book and was easily surrounded by nature. To top it off, he had turned his phone off so that no one would be able to interrupt him.

This, he thought taking a sip of his favorite cool drink, must be a Zen moment.

Sadly, every good thing must come to an end, and so did his peaceful moment. First it was just the sound of someone running through the bushes, breaking branches and snapping twigs underfoot. Then a dull thud.

He yanked out his headphones, and stuffed all of his stuff in his bag. A sound followed that made him more than slightly uncomfortable. Sobbing. Loud, breathless, choking on sobs.

Werner stood, and for a moment, debated just leaving. He let out a loud, annoyed breath, and left his bag in his lovely paradise, while he stepped into the real world again. The park was near the downtown area, but the trees were too thick to hear the heavy traffic that surrounded the north part. It was also difficult to hear anything that was farther than about twenty feet from you. As he had been coming here since he was eight, he knew exactly where to find the woman. Well, maybe not exactly where, but he knew the sound of the paper trees, as he called them, breaking, and that was the sound he had heard. They needed to be wrapped around something for the first few years. So, with that, and the fact that it came from south- east of his position, he went towards the gazebo. 

Some people needed to be alone when they were upset, and he hoped that the woman wasn't someone like that. If she was, his presence would just make it worse. 

Quietly, he moved through the thick brush, knowing when to step over roots, and duck from branches. 

He felt a small tug on his pants, which almost made him trip, but there was nothing there. By the time he had gotten out of the abandoned area, he wasn't sure this was such a good idea after all. 

He debated going back, but decided against it. By this point, the woman had most likely heard him coming, and if he stayed hidden, he would seem like a stalker. 

Sure enough, there was a woman, in her late twenties most likely, dressed in a nice lilac dress, with long, curly auburn hair covering her face. 

"Um, miss?" He asked. Suddenly, he tripped. Someone, most likely the woman or one of the animals knocked over one of the thin trash bins that used to be emptied daily. 

Before he knew what happened, he was biting the dirt. Literally. 

His cheeks lit up in embarrassment, and he looked up towards the gazebo with a horrified look. 

But she wasn't there. Neither was the gazebo. It made no sense. His eyes should be working right, but just in case, he rubbed them. 

He should be in the park, where he was safe, but he was in some sort of, dare he say it, valley. There were flowers, bigger than his hands, and brighter than he had ever seen all around him. What made it worse, was the fact that he landed in the one spot that seemed to be more mud than anything. No, he realized as he peered around the rocky, dirt filled area. He landed in a dried up creek. 

“Um, okay.” He muttered to himself, getting up and moving towards the grassy area. “Why not. I must’ve fallen asleep by the tree, and this is due to a concussion. Fantastic. Coma or dream?”

When he fell again, this time due to a hole in the ground he hadn't seen, and skinned his palms slightly, he realized something. A very annoying something. One couldn't feel pain in a dream, so if he pressed on his head, he should know. So, being who he was, he didn't realize that the small pain in his palm was enough to tell him what he wanted to know, and pressed his slightly red palm into his head, harder than was probably necessary. 

The thing one did for science. 

As his heated hand made contact with his sore head, he should have known to stop, and not put even more pressure on, but no, of course not. He was Werner Whiston. 

He was weirded out, that was for sure. He spun around in place, trying to see if this place in his head had any of his usual landmarks, when he saw someone. The person was a man, taller than him, and definitely broader too. The man blinked at him, and he blinked back. 

“What in the name of the capital are you wearing?” The man exclaimed. Warner blinked again. 

He glanced down at his now muddy tee-shirt and pants that were covered in a mixture of dirt and tree sap. “Um, clothes.” True, dirty clothing that he would probably throw away when he got home, sure, but at least he was fully covered. 

Not that his fully covered had anything on the other man. His shirt looked like it was at least three layers with the outer one long sleeved, but loose in a billowy sort of way. His… trousers, he guessed they were called, looked to be some sort of fur, calf skin maybe?, and down to the bottom of his ankles where they too billowed out dramatically. Just looking at the man made him feel like he was overheating. 

“You’re not from around here, are you?” The man asked, shaking his head with his eyes still wide in disgust. 

“Um, you could say that.” Was he technically from ‘around here’ when he was pretty sure he was just stuck in his own head? That meant he was from the same brain, but a different part of it. Or something like that. 

“Where…?” The man trailed off, but his dark brown eyes seemed to focus a bit. “You know what, never mind. All I am going to care about in the next ten minutes or so is getting you out of those horrid rags, then burning them. Follow me.”

Now, many would say that Werner was not very smart, but he wasn't sure if he was stupid enough to follow some stranger who wanted to burn his clothing, apparently without him in them. He hesitated for a few moments, and the man seemed to notice and looked at him exasperated. 

“Look, if I wanted you dead, trust me, you would know it. Unless you want to be covered in dirt. You are aware you have some on your nose, right? And you escaped from Crofton, right? You were a slave. And you’ve gotten this far, but if your master is looking for you, the last thing you want to be wearing is clothing he gave you, right? So why don't you just let me help you, alright? I won't hurt you, I promise.” The man seemed nice enough, and sympathetic, but he didn't feel safe exactly. He was feeling too exposed to be calm in this man’s presence. 

For some reason that couldn't explain, he agreed to follow the man with a simple, but quiet, “Alright.”

They walked together for a few minutes until they reached the edge of the clearing. The man clearly wanted to say, or ask something, but Werner wasn't in the mood to talk. It lasted until he saw a cabin. Or a cottage, whatever you want to call it, it was small, and made of stone, actual rock, with, to his horror, some type of straw or hay on the top of it. 

His eyes were wide. 

The man looked over at him and scoffed as he swiped his hand midair, moving several large stones and revealing an entrance. Werner tried not to take a few steps back.

“Never seen a practitioner of the arts before? Well, you don't have to be scared. I built this place, and I am the only one who can tear it down.” The man told him.

“What...who are you?” He asked. The man looked at him in amusement. 

“Oh, so the little flower wants to talk names? And here I thought it would be better to not know. Very well then, I am Erasmus, a great and powerful practitioner who has kindly, and please note the kindly part, decided to give you a new outfit, and possibly a warm meal.” 

Was this a good idea? No, probably not. Did that mean he was going to turn down the offer the other was making? No, he wasn't going to. If this man felt like giving him a change of clothes, then that was fine with him.

"Thank you for your help, Erasmus. My name is-"

"I don’t want to know lad. Its better this way. If the guards come by and ask if I have seen you using your real name, I am required to say yes or no. If I don’t know it, I can say no. If you are going to make a new life, you need to think of a new name. One that can fit in here as the middle class most likely. You don’t have to right now of course. I'll just call you Flower. Is that alright?" Erasmus really didn’t look like he intended any harm, but the thought of being called something like that rubbed him the wrong way. No one would ever get away with calling him that. He told the other so. "That's the point. If no one can associate you with Flower, then Flower you shall be." 

Not that he would know it, but even when the man found out his real name, he would still call him Flower. Though, after a few days, Warner was sure that it was because he twitched every time he realized that the name was associated with him.

Then again, by the time he had been there for a day and a half, he was not only dressed in three of his own layers, black underneath and a dark purple that apparently meant he was learning magic, but he was gardening of all things. 

He tried not to think about the fact that he was a man, young granted, but still a man being called Flower and having to wear purple. Yes it was a dark purple, but not only was he hot, feeling the sun beating down on the back of his neck, and sweat running down the side of his face, but he was stuck working in a garden.

He snorted quietly. Flower indeed. 

Erasmus didn’t mind him staying for a while, but he wasn’t going to do nothing. The only way for a slave to be left alone is if when they escaped, they were taken by a master of an art. There were four main ones in this world: wielding, magic, fighting, and growing. So, in other words, if he was useful member of society, no one would say anything.

It turned out that he was learning two of them from Erasmus. The size of the plants were due to a careful balance of magic and care. So, being the dork he was, Werner asked to learn magic. It was far more difficult than it had the right to be. He knew the gestures needed, knew the words, and felt the magic deep inside him. The problem was, he couldn't seem to combine them into a useful method of madness.

He was supposed to be sleeping, or working in the back garden, not digging his fingers into the cool earth. But he couldn't, not with the tempting promise of being able to learn after he was done. And while it was early, the sun had already fully risen, and was causing havoc on his brain. It couldn't be any later than maybe six- thirty am, and yet, he could clearly feel the sun on the back of his neck.

Erasmus had promised that he could take the test if he took care of the plants today. Which was why he was here, in the garden. He had a weird relationship with plants. He hated working with them, mostly because he felt like he should, but he also adored it. On one hand, his mentor was nowhere around, leaving him to finally gave some peace. It was hard for him to be around someone for as long as he had been, so this time was a peaceful moment for him. On the other hand, it meant he wasn’t learning any type of magic yet. He wanted to be figuring out how to work the stupid spells, that would, hopefully, show his aptitude in magic.

He knew it would be something awesome.

While Erasmus was someone calm and easily pleased, he wasn’t. He was a perfectionist. He needed to do everything right, unless he was messing up on purpose. His other side, hated that he couldn't do it, and made him want to throw something, or punch someone.

Stupid anger problems.

He knew he wasn’t the only one getting annoyed at his lack of progress though, Erasmus felt the same way. Apparently the man had taught seventeen students, and had never had as much trouble teaching someone who clearly had magic.

Which was more than slightly insulting. He should be able to pick this up, it was weird enough, and he obviously had the ability to wield the magic.  
He ran his sweaty hand through his hair. He was sure that his strawberry blonde hair was sticking up everywhere. Again. His annoying mentor was starting to call him Spikes, as well as his usual nickname of Flower after he returned from working in the gardens. He should have minded that one more too, but he did look ridiculous after he finally came in. There was almost always dirt on his face, leafs in his hair, and mud on his clothes, which he usually washed again by night. 

The man loved to joke with him. The nicknames were one example of the clever teasing he would have to deal with daily. Then there were the little quips that were less annoyed and more fond. By the time Werner had understood what the emotion lighting the others voice was, they had only known each other for a day and a half. It was nice, feeling wanted by someone Then again, he had a feeling that the man was starting to think of him as more than just someone who needed his help. He was sure that the man was starting to feel some sort of affection towards him, and to his horror, he was as well. 

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t do just about anything for an actual shower to get all the sweat and dirt out of his hair. If he kept this up, his hair was going to be more dirt and less hair, then again, it just meant that the other man would help him wash off the dirt of the day by grabbing a cloth and holding the bowl he used to wash his face. Not that h Erasmus didn't complain about it, loudly.

It was taking some time to get used to having to go to a well to get water. And there was no technology, and there was no actual lights. He had no idea how people could read from lanterns, but here he was. He could actually do things in this place that he couldn't do anywhere else. Erasmus didn’t judge him, and he could relax more than he had ever been able to at home. No one was mad at him if he did something right. No one bothered him, besides Erasmus, and the man was actually starting to grow on him.

"Hey! Aren't you supposed to be anywhere but here? I told you to work on the back flower garden, not this one." Erasmus sounded exasperated, but that was alright too. Exasperated still meant some sort of affection.

"Already done. I saw that this one needed more work anyway." He replied with a shrug. His hands were in the cool earth, pulling the weeds, and dead plants away from the live ones to keep them from suffocating. 

He heard the man sigh. “Just leave it be, little flower. The less appealing it looks, the more likely people are to just walk past and not stop.” 

He wanted to listen, he really did, but there was a part of his mind that was screaming at him for even considering leaving the job half done. So, he kept going.

"Don’t worry, I'll make it still look wild and messy, just more of an organized mess." He could do that. He had made messes that weren't actually messes, but were an organized pile that he disguised as a mess. 

“Don't forget that you need to be inside in a couple of hours.” Erasmus warned.

Werner agreed with a quiet hum and fell back into the motions of gardening without meaning to. There he stayed for hours, trying to comprehend that this was his new reality, if only for a little while. By the time he was done, many hours had passed, his nails were messed up and jagged from the earth, and his skin was fiery red. He wasn't worried about it though. For some reason, sunburns always seemed to be gone by the next day. 

Erasmus finally laid his hand on his shoulder with a soft smile. He looked years younger, Werner noticed, when he did that. The older man offered his hand, and to his surprise, Werner actually took it, before his mind could process it. 

Just like he promised, the front garden looked less wild, and had more of an elegant, but deadly feel to it. It looked better than it had before he messed with it. Every jagged edge of a plant was carefully manipulated to be more of a killer clean cut. 

Both men were surprised by how different it looked. Thankfully, it kept its 'keep away' vibes. 

"This, little flower, is most certainly worth a few casual spell lessons. I will teach you everything I know about whatever subject you're affinity is." Erasmus told him. 

Both men were still aware of how awkward they sounded, but neither was really sure how to talk to the other. 

Werner stood and rocked back on his heels, eyeing the rows and columns of the plants with the carefulness of someone who had done this many times before. He almost didn't want to go inside, but the bigger part of his mind wanted to start learning again. 

"This is rather simple, Flower. You simply place a few drops of blood on the parchment."

Werner eyed it with suspicion. That sounded too easy. "That's it?" He knew his voice was skeptic, but there was no way something could be so simple. From the mischievous look the other was giving him, he knew he was right. 

"That's all I'm going to say. You need to figure out anything else that you may or may not have to do."

He groaned quietly, feeling a trickle of annoyance run through him. Why wouldn't the man just give him a straight yes or no for once? 

With a small huff, he used the knife to slash lightly at his pointer finger, and squeezed three careful drops of blood. Then, for the heck of it, let one more fall, this time on the bottom left corner, rather than in the middle, and pressed a bloody fingerprint to the other side. To his surprise, the blood moved, and pulled together, forming a word. He squinted, as it took a the shade of a person's spidery handwriting. 

Illusionist. 

He felt his blood sing to him for a moment, everything suddenly feeling right. He was an illusionist. It felt good to think. He glanced up, through his bangs, and saw the older man. His normally tanned features seemed deathly pale. 

"What's wrong?" He asked. The man just stared for a few more minutes, before finally looking up with his blue eyes clouded. 

"I can't teach you." He said in horror. Werner turned his head in confusion. 

"What?" 

"I... I can't teach you. The power of an illusionist is both revered and mocked in the same breath. They are known as the toys of the kings. The only job they ever gave us to set illusions for security purposes. Even then, they aren't respected. It's almost impossible to teach them any other branch of magic because they are so attuned to what it is they create, that they lose touch with reality and get lost in their own illusions." Erasmus' voice was low, as if he was sharing information that would have him killed if was heard by the wrong ears. 

"Erasmus?" He questioned quietly. the man remained silent for a long moment. 

“Illusionist are excellent killers and thieves because they can make anyone see what the person wants them to see. There have been cases of people being attacked by a family member or loved one, or so it seemed. Some died. Some didn't. I was one of many who swore to help get rid of the power. Little Flower, I can't help you. I morally can't teach someone something that they can use for death and destruction.”

Werner looked at him with a small frown. “But you don't have to be an illusionist to kill. You certainly don't have to even have any access or type of magic. There are people doing it all the time without it, so blaming one group, on a talent that they are born with doesn't seem like a very good decision.”

Erasmus shook his head slowly. “I'm sorry, Flower, but I just can’t teach you.”

He should have been disappointed and surprised, but he wasn't. When it came to something he wanted, he had to either get it himself, or not get it at all. Werner ducked his head, and held back a sigh. “Alright.”

The older man looked surprised. “You're giving up? Just like that?” 

“Well, unless you secretly want me to argue…” The look he received was more than obvious. “Exactly, so why make you do something that so clearly makes you uncomfortable?” 

He knew the look he was getting. It was one he had gotten often in the past where people wonder if he's trying to use reverse psychology on them, or if he was being truthful. He wasn't going to lie by saying it was always just the second, but he rarely, if ever, used the first. He turned to go back outside so he could find something to do before he was forced to leave.

“Flower…” Erasmus sighed, seemingly fighting himself for a moment before making up his mind. “I won't teach you, but, I can… help you learn. I won't touch those arts for anything… I must ask that after I give you what I am about to, you leave.” 

His eyes widened. “What?” 

“I refuse to have anyone practice those arts in my home. But if I give it to you, I can not only give you something to learn from, but I can also get those horrid things out of my home.” 

Werner considered it for a moment. The other was getting more and more uncomfortable with his presence, and he needed to move on. He couldn't stay there for his entire life, now could he?

“Fair enough,” He said slowly, not entirely sure if that was what he wanted, but he knew he was going to be leaving soon anyway, so leaving a few days earlier was going to not be much of a problem. A bit of an annoyance? Sure, but if it was something he could use to make his own way in his temporary reality, then it was what he would have to put up with.   
Erasmus looked at him for a few more moments, before walking slowly to the fire place. Werner looked alarmed for a moment, before seeing the older practitioner using his ability to move stone. His hand was on one stone that looked exactly like the others around it, except it seemed to melt under his hand. Erasmus moved to block his view of what was in the secret spot, before moving again, and showing the three books in his hands. One was a thick book, bigger than most textbooks in both width and length. Its pages were yellowing and looking older than it probably should. The next was much smaller, like a journal that was sewn together with nothing more than a piece of parchment as the cover. The third was what caught his attention. It was heavy, but a weird shape. It looked like a box, but he knew it wasn’t.

Werner could tell the older man wanted to throw them in the fire, but resisted, and slowly walked a few more steps towards him. "This, one," he gestured to the thickest one, "has is more like a spell book, or an illusion specialists guide, for lack of a better phrase. The magic in here is rather basic, save a few, and should be easy enough to practice alone. The sewn one is more advanced illusions that a very powerful person created. The last is sort of an instruction manual of sorts. It will tell you things that you never wanted to know, a caution of sorts. It records when illusions backfire, and cause damage that was unintended. Physical damage only. Its self updating and should teach you how to wield the magic without being stupid about it.”

Instead of being handed the books, as he was mentally bracing himself for, they were placed on the small table in the middle of the room. He went to pick them up, but stopped at a look from Erasmus. To his surprise, the older man left the room, and comes back with a simple cloth bag that can go over his shoulder, as well as another set of the suffocating clothing. Both items are placed on the table, and the man seemed to be on a bit of a roll. 

Werner hardly thought he needed the large cloth of food and the jug of water that apparently fit in the bag, but said nothing. He wasn't sure how long he was going to be here, and it was better to be over prepared than under. Finally, the man grabbed another cloth, this one was hidden beneath yet another rock- hidey hole. 

A smirk played on the older man's features, and Werner approached when beckoned, even if he was half sure the man wanted to hurt him. He opened the cloth with shaking hands and found three daggers of different sizes. One was larger, with a deadly sharp blade. It was just bigger than his hand, he noticed when he pulled it from its sheath. The second had a thinner handle, but the blade was more jagged and far more dangerous in his eyes. It was not quite the size of his hand. The third blade was actually five thinner throwing knives that attached to each other using a ring of metal. 

He raised his eyebrow at the man. "What's this for?"

Erasmus drooped a bit. "Until magic can protect you, these will have to do." It was strange for him to have someone actually worried about him. 

He did the only thing he could think of, and nodded his thanks, grabbing his semi-torn uniform bottoms and placed everything in the given bag.

He was fully packed within minutes. It was funny how he felt looking at the stone cabin from the edge of the property. 

He shook his head, and turned away, knowing that he would not allow himself to return. 


	3. Chapter 3

It was strange, he mused to himself, how hard it had been to walk away from the home of someone he knew was his friend. It was easier to wake up in a strange world and realize he might never get home than it was to force himself to keep walking away from Erasmus.

He wondered what that said about him, before snorting loudly. He didn't care how it made him seem, and as long as he was the only one who knew, no one could judge him for it.

He laid down in the soft grass and just stared at the stars. It was late, he knew, but he doubted he would sleep tonight. If he tried, he could almost convince himself that he was in his little park, waiting for the sun to rise so he could go home and get ready for the day.

Insomnia wasn't rare for him. It was rare when he could actually fall asleep on his own without crashing, or taking some sort of sleep medication. So, for him, he wasn't the least bit surprised that he was still awake.

He could practically hear Darius scolding him. You know, if you didn’t sneak out every night, then you wouldn’t have black eyes more often than not. Idiot. He snuck out because he couldn't sleep. He did not sneak out so he wouldn’t sleep.

Then again, he really didn’t mind having more awake hours than most questionably sane people did. It meant he had more and more time to practice and perfect his masks and calculate exactly what he assumed would happen that day.

He snorted loudly again. No amount of planning the night before would have led him to believe that tripping over a trash can in front of a beautiful woman would lead to another world. It still made his face heat up to remember her look of surprise as he came into view and her look of amusement poorly concealed by horror.

He also couldn't have guessed that just because his magic was supposed to be illusions meant that Erasmus would kick him out.

If he had learned one thing since getting here it was that nothing played by logic and assuming that it would mean that you were unprepared to deal with this world as it came. Assuming makes an ass out of you and me indeed.

Shoving the thoughts away, he leaned back once more and just watched the sky. His life had been chaotic until he had learned that the night sky was always there. His emotions were everywhere more times than they weren't as a child. Then again, he always assumed that under the careful watch of the night sky, he would be safe. Another assumption, and another disappointment.

He ran his hand through his hair. How was he supposed to be safe in a world where magic was the norm, and men showed off their gardening skills? Logic told him that there was no way 

Erasmus could have made the stone melt away to reveal little holes behind the structure. Logic told him that there was no way he could actually do magic. Logic told him that it was impossible for plants to be the size and color that they were, and that the soil they grew in should not have a hint of sapphire blue where magic had been used before. And yet, Erasmus did have his little hidey holes, he could do magic, he had seen flowers that looked like they were made from molten silver swirled with gold, and he had noticed the blue in the dirt that had gotten under his nails after a closer inspection. So, logically, it meant that logic didn’t exist in this world, or at least not his variation of it.

Gah, he was giving himself a headache. Again. He forcefully let go of his train of thought, and let his mind drift while his eyes watched the stars again. It didn’t matter if logic, wasn’t there anymore, as long as when the sun set, he could still see the stars and feel their cool gaze watching over him.

With that in mind, he allowed himself to drift into an extremely light doze. He would be up and start moving in an hour, but it didn’t matter yet. It never did this early.

At least, that was the plan. For some reason, his restlessness was starting to act up again. He fought down the urge to move, move, move and not stop.

He locked his limbs in place and waited. It would pass, he reminded himself. It always did. He breathed in deeply, and just stayed as still as he could. Sure enough, not ten minutes later, the urge stopped.

Sometimes, he would allow himself to move, and sometimes, he wouldn't. Usually, he only got that stupid urge when he was either late, or his brother was doing something incredibly stupid. Seeing as how his brother was nowhere near where ever he was, he allowed himself to fall into his mind. Where was he supposed to be? Classes would have been over, no assignment should have been due, so what?

He grimaced. Right. The election dinner should be tonight, and his mother had told him he had to go. It wouldn't start for almost a full day, but he would need to be up at strange hours to get everything done. Food needed to be checked, tuxes needed to be picked up, Darius would...

He stopped himself with a low annoyed growl. He wasn't at home, or at the park. Sometimes, it was hard for him to remember that there was no list of things that needed to be done, and he didn't need to watch over everything himself. He spared a single thought about the wellbeing of his family, before turning over and shutting his mind down. It wouldn't work for long, but it would do for now. 

Letting himself be enthralled by the sound of his own breathing, he calmed immensely. It was weird, he noticed. Yet another difference from this world and the other one. It was silent, completely silent. The only noise he heard besides his breathing was the wind, whistling in the distance, and playing in the trees. That was it. No animals made a noise, no humans seemed to be around, nothing.

It was weird, and unsettling for someone as used to the sounds of nature as he was. He was used to the sound of bugs, birds, and other creatures in the woods. The silence seemed deafening sometimes, but that was alright. He didn’t mind after a few days that the only things he could hear was himself and the wind.

Still, he noticed with a small grimace, it was kind of creepy.

He shot up and looked to his left with surprise clear on his features. He had heard something. No, someone. He shouldn’t have been so astonished, but he was. He had yet to see another human since he left Erasmus's little cottage. Add that to the fact that it was, according to his internal clock, about four or so in the morning, and it was no wonder he almost fell over when he was already on the ground.

He shook his head roughly, and started gathering the cloak he had draped over himself to keep the light spring chill from himself. The last thing he wanted to do was run into someone who felt this was a good time to be moving around. Yes, he felt slightly hypocritical, seeing as he was still up and about to start moving himself. That did not mean he wanted to get his throat cut or hung from a tree, or whatever else the person might decide to do to someone who had seen them, accidentally or not.

Sending one last look at the moon, he started to move, not really sure where he was going. Ironically, he was stopping and smelling the roses, or at least this world's version of roses. He moved through this world with no end goal, and just tried to enjoy the ride.

Next thing he knew, he was being pressed against the ground with someone's shoe over the back of his neck, ready to stomp down and end his life. He mentally whined in annoyance. Why him? Why did he have to be nice? And why on earth was he so oblivious? Oh, right. He wasn’t on earth anymore. Huh.

His eyes were being blocked because the cloth of his cloak, which had fallen over him. Great. So he wasn’t even going to see his wanna- be- killer. Fantastic.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? A delicate little flower," and wasn’t that insulting? Why did everyone insist on comparing him to a freaking flower? "like yourself, shouldn’t be out here in the wilderness by themselves. They might be hurt by the things that go bump in the night."

Alright, Werner, think. What do you know? The person over him was obviously a man, with a voice so deep that it made him slightly jealous, seeing as his own was rather high for a male. He also had rather large boots. Maybe it was just because it was over his neck, but it felt huge, and rather annoying.

Werner huffed quietly in annoyance. This was the last time he was listening to an old proverb. Stopping to smell the roses was dangerous. He needed to get from point A to point B as quickly and efficiently as possible.

"Were you saying something, flower?" The man asked, putting more pressure on his neck.

"My name is Werner, not flower for gods sakes! Do you have any idea how insulting it is to always be compared to something with petals, stems, and roots? Honestly, why does no one call me, oh I don’t know, tree or something like that. Could be worse, I guess, I cou-"

"…do you have any idea how stupid you sound? Your complaining about being called a flower by the man that has your life under his shoe." The man asked him. Werner, slightly annoyed at being cut off, paused and thought for a moment.

"True. Gods, sorry, I need to sleep." He felt his eyes closing, slightly. His exhaustion was suddenly catching up to him, and his body was protesting violently.

"He-hey! You can't jus-"

That was the last thing he heard before his mind became too fuzzy to recognize words.

His mind woke slowly. It took him approximately three minutes to realize he was awake, and another four to realize he was still alive. He shot up, ignoring the protesting beside him. That wasn’t right. He shouldn’t still be alive. He should be, what was the expression? Pushing up daisies by now. His mind snapped into focus, and he took in the harsh mid-day sun, plush, green grass, and the tall trees around him. Well, that and a taller, broader man pouting next to him, rubbing his dark head in annoyance.

"Who are you?" He squeaked, ahem, asked in a manly manner.

"The one who saved your rosy ass. Fucking flowers…" He grumbled. The man had short, jet black hair, and dark brown eyes that looked almost black. He was dressed in a single black, long sleeved top that looked almost like a turtle-neck, and black trousers.

"Aren't you supposed to, I don’t know, kill me or dismember me, or something equally heinous?" Werner couldn't help but ask.

The man raised his dark eyebrows.

"That’s what you ask? Really? What the fuck ever. Just go back to your fucking babysitter, and we'll pretend that this never happened, alright?"

Werner figured that he could do two things, nod, or shake his head. Instead, he felt his own eyebrow raise. That was exactly what he would have said should someone have caught him doing something nice at the school. Which meant that this man had a reputation of sorts, and didn’t want to be associated with helping someone.

"If you don’t mind me asking, what's your name?" He asked quietly.

The man paused in picking up his bag. "Why would I tell you that?"

"What's the harm? I mean, there are probably thousands of people with the same name here, and it's not like I'm going to see you again." He shrugged. "Besides, I'm curious."

The man let out a long, drawn out sigh. "Fine, your majesty." he replied sarcastically. "The name of your humble servant is Jarlan. Jarlan of Lirac. The pleasure is yours, I'm sure."

"Thanks for…" Werner trailed off embarrassed. He was usually pretty good about knowing when he needed to rest, and when he didn’t. He had fallen asleep under this idiots boot. He suppressed the urge to blush in humiliation. He cleared his throat, and tried not to notice the smirk being sent his way. "well, this was fun. Bye."

Jarlan was already moving in one direction, but he sent a look over his shoulder. "Let's never do this again, Flower King Werner,"

He tried not to let himself groan in annoyance, but it didn’t work. He tried to keep it quiet enough, at least that the other wouldn’t hear, but from the smooth laughter that he heard, Jarlan had most likely heard him anyways.

Banging his head against a tree as soon as the other was out of view, he finally let the humiliation wash over him. He would never live it down if anyone found out that he fell asleep on a stranger. He could practically hear Darius taunting him about it, should he find out.

After a few more minutes, the heat in his cheeks faded enough that he was sure he could even get away with it as a light sunburn or something like that.

He got up, grabbed his bag, and froze when something fell off of him. The blush came back full force as he stared at the heavy winter cloak that he hadn't noticed before. Had the man actually… he could hardly think the words, but forced himself to complete the thought. "I think he tucked me in, using his own cloak."

What was he supposed to do? Run and catch up with the other man to give him back his cloak? Keep it and pretend that it never happened? Should he save both himself and Jarlan the embarrassment of having to…

He shuddered. Nope. He was going to keep the cloak, and if he ever saw the man again, he would just sneak it into the others belongings

So, he thought to himself, which way to go? He had no map, and no time to ask the other where anything was. Then again, it wasn’t like he could just run to the store and pick up whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. A piece of paper floated to the ground and he stared at it. He blinked slowly. It was notebook paper. Actual notebook paper with blue and red lines, not the parchment or dried skins. He picked it up with shaking hands. It felt like the sun suddenly decided to beat harder on him, and he had a bead of sweat running down his neck.

There was a name on it, written in a black ball point pen. His name. Underneath his full name, was a number, 17,000 vyram. What? He stared at it again, thinking the words would change if he just watched it long enough. But no, it stayed as Werner Oswald Whiston. Then, on the back was a small note written with a quill. Head as proof.

He let out the breath he was holding. It wasn’t right. He was sure he wasn’t seeing what he thought he was. The small corner was wrinkled in his palm, as his fingers tightened around it. He wanted to burn it, wanted to destroy it.

Smoke rose from his fist and he jumped backward, letting the paper float innocently to the ground. What the…?

Oh, his magic wanted to burn it too, but couldn't. He wasn’t supposed to be able to do more than just a few illusions, and nothing else. He looked at it, and knelt down to examine it. Was it an illusion? Had his magic actually reduced it to ashes? Or was the paper real and the illusion was the smoke rising from his hand. He poked at it with a careful finger, and felt nothing but air in the place where the paper was sitting. He could still see it, but it wasn’t really there. It was nothing more than an illusion.

As it happened, he was almost positive that it wasn’t just an illusion, but his illusion. Which meant… He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture that worked well on his brother. To his surprise, the illusion faded, and nothing but grass was anywhere near where his hand had been. From there, he had another set of choices, he could rush out after the man and demand to know where he got the page from, and possibly end up captured, or dead. Or, he could do absolutely nothing and pull out one of the books that Erasmus had given him. He decided that his curiosity on how he had managed to do that far outweighed his want to track some man down.

He glanced around him, and pulled out the top book, the biggest one, and began losing himself in the text. It was nice to just be able to read and not need anyone to tell him that he couldn't, and was expected to do things that he naturally didn’t do. In this topic, if none other, he would do his best, and be the best. He wouldn’t accept the urge to suppress what he could do, and would shove it down as viciously as he could. This was going to be difficult, but he knew he could do it.

He sat back for a moment, and decided that he wouldn’t stop until he was able to do the first ten illusions. After that, he could walk some more, or just sleep, but he wouldn’t be able to do anything else until he was done. 

About three hours later, he closed the book with an annoyed groan. He had figured out how to do three of them, mostly useless. The first was an illusion that showed a bug of some sort. The downside was it was only one bug at a time. There was apparently one called the nightmare illusion that wanted to learn that trapped a person in their worst nightmare for however long the caster desired. That was the only way he could have a room full of bugs. The second was using normal items, like twigs and stones, to smuggle something. Apparently, this illusion made everyone see some sort of twig or rock, depending on the caster, when in all actuality, there was really anything but. This one would be semi- useful. He could make his knives look like they were nothing worth noticing. The third was the most complicated, not that it was saying much. With a bit of blood, he could manipulate things around him, like iron or rope, to allow his skin to pass harmlessly through. Useful, if he planned on getting captured.

He snorted to himself. Really? How many people actually planned on getting caught? Then again, some people wanted to be caught, so he just filed the information in his brain. He would have to practice often, to his annoyance. This wasn’t going to be like when he learned something for school. The more he practiced the illusions, the more powerful they would become, and the quicker he could cast them. Daily, he decided, until he could cast them quickly enough to actually be able to get him out of a jam, after that, it would be weekly.

He stretched his arms over his head, and leaned back with a sigh. He knew this was going to be more difficult than anything he had ever done, but that was a good thing. He needed the challenge. For the first time in years, he felt the burning need to learn as much as he could. This magic thing may be common, but it was his. Just his. No one, not his brother, his mother, his father, or even his dead sister were able to do what he could.

It wasn’t impressive, yet, but he was learning, and would continue.

His mind caught up with his thoughts, and he cringed. His dead sister. Now that was a thought he hadn't allowed himself to think for a long, long time. She was eight years older than Darius and him. She had died when he was eight, and he felt the familiar pang of sadness to wash over him, before shoving her to the back of his mind. It had happened a long, long time ago. Seven, almost eight years. That was too long for him to still feel the raw pain that he used to. It was more like an old wound, that only ached occasionally.

He shook his head roughly and moved to shove the book back in his bag, but gentled his grip after a few seconds, carefully placing the book back in its place.

With nothing left to do, he stood and started walking again. By this point, the sun was starting to set, rather early, he noticed, but that was no reason to stay still. He picked a direction, and started walking. The only condition he had when he let his feet take over was that he couldn't go back to Erasmus's home, no matter how much he missed the elder man and his long, wild dark brown hair that was going white in the temples.

He walked west, he guessed. For as long as he could, he continued to walk, not really having a goal. By the time dawn was starting to rise over the horizon, he was finally saw something in the distance. It was a village of sorts, full of wooden homes that he was sure were probably termite infested by this point, but it was a nice sight.

He moved through the village as the first of the inhabitants started to rise. It was strange, he noticed, that the people all seemed to be going towards the center. He waited at the outskirts until the town bloomed to life.

Against his better judgment, he decided to see what all the commotion was about, and followed the people until they reached a raised platform with a creepy looking man with an axe waiting calmly in the shadows.

"What's going on?" He asked the person nearest him. The woman looked at him with a strange sense of satisfaction clear on her features.

"They are getting rid of a horrible monster named Lonan. He raped four women here, and was caught yesterday." She told him.

Werner tried to keep his face blank. "Did you know him?" He asked innocently.

The woman's eyes glinted again. "I did. He was a monster, and deserves to die as a monster."

Huh, he noticed, the woman must have liked him at one point, and he must have turned her down. Most killers, and rapist for that matter, seemed to live very normal lives on the outside, so for this woman to hate him so much, that meant she knew him. Very, very well.

This took the phrase Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned to another level.

"Can you tell me about him?" Werner asked. The woman leaned closer to him, like what she was about to tell him was some sort of major secret.

He held his breath, sure he didn’t want to miss this, but not sure why. "Lonan is an illusionist." She whispered. He blinked.

"So?"

She shook her head, muttering something about travelers under her breath. "About fifty years ago, there was a man who killed dozens of innocent people. He was an illusionist, and proud of it. He used forbidden illusions, and tortured them with nothing more than his mind. No one was sure who he would get next, or why he was doing what he was. He was finally caught, but the All King found out that he was a part of a secret society known as Blood on the Blade. It was created to teach illusionists about the powers that they haven't learned how to control. Over five hundred illusionists were killed for being a part of the society. Then, about twenty years later, a group of three men started doing the same thing that the man had done thirty years previously. In the last few years, there have been rumors that the Blood on the Blade are resurrecting themselves. Not only was Lonan an illusionist, but he was a part of the Blood on the Blade. Or, at least that’s what the rumors say."

Well, that told him more than he was expecting to hear. His mind brought up the moment that Erasmus had found out about his magic. He hadn't been paying that much attention, but he had been able to get a mental snapshot. He closed his eyes and pulled the image to the front of his mind. There had been a look of grief, pride, and something else, disappointment maybe?

He wondered if Erasmus had known an illusionist. Maybe that would explain how he still had the books, but refused to interact with one. Maybe, he even knew someone from the secret society. His eyes snapped open at the sudden rush of noise around him. He looked around for what could possibly be causing the commotion, and he found it. A man, probably in his early twenties, who was gaunt and pale, and being pulled along rather than being able to walk on his own. Both of his eyes were swollen, and one looked like it wouldn’t even open. He had blood all over his face and clothing.

Werner winced in sympathy for the man. There was very little chance that this man had actually hurt anyone. Sure, it could be because he, unlike everyone else, wasn’t fully covered from head to toe in far too many layers, and seemed to be dressed in rags. It could be that the man was unable to hold his head up, and it rolled over his shoulders as he was dragged on what looked like a bum leg. Or, it could be that the little of the man's eye that he could see was clouded, and confused without even a hint of remorse, guilt, anger, rage, or any other sort of emotion. His brown hair had been lopped off in an uneven mess. He wondered if that was supposed to be a humiliation technique. 

Probably. The man looked like he was the type to have longer hair. The woman next to him jeered with the crowd. They were spitting insults as the man had what had to be one of the least effective walks of shame in existence.

"Hey kid," The man behind the woman he had been talking to jabbed him in the side, effectively tearing his eyes off Lonan. "Ya know why dey behead illusionists? Cuz, dey can create an illusion to keep the fire at bay, keep the water out of dey're lungs, dey can create something to keep the noose from being effective. There's only two ways to deal with thems. Either cuts their heads off, or cut dair hearts out." The man was drunk, that was obvious from both the smell and the sway. "I was hopen for the second, but there's too many w'men and kids." The man took another drink from the flask at his side. "I says it’s a good lesson for 'em. Need ta grow up sometime, right?"

There were so many flaws in that statement that for a few seconds, Werner wasn’t sure exactly what to say first. Before he could start the corrections, the woman jabbed the man and shushed him.

A strange hush came over the crowd as the man was shoved to his knees with his head on a piece of wood.

He should have been gripped by the same thing that everyone else was, but he just shoved his way out of the crowd, thankful that he wasn’t too far in, and ran. There was nothing he could do to help the man, he knew that, and he also knew that if he stayed, he would get himself into a lot of trouble. He wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to help the man, but his attempts would only cause more damage. He fell to his knees and tried not to throw up.

There was someone near him, who yanked him up from behind. His eyes looked around wildly, and he wasn’t sure what was going on, only that it wasn’t good for his stomach. Finally, something that made semi-sense, a guard was holding him up, and another one was in front of him, covered in blood.

"Wha?"


	4. Chapter 4

The guards sneered at him and he wasn’t exactly sure what he had done to offend them, only that he had. He blinked a few more times, and swallowed roughly. It took him a moment, before he straightened up in their hold.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?" He asked, using his reporter voice.

"You can leave, if you know what's good for you little freak." Ugly A told him. The one holding him, he was mentally calling him Ugly B, laughed like that was some sort of joke.

"I had planned on moving through your village as soon as possible." He responded, keeping his tone polite, but not patronizing. He wasn’t idiotic enough to taunt a man who was covered in blood.

Ugly A seemed to realize he was looking at the blood and gave him a maniacal grin. "I was the one holding the main attraction to our little show, which I couldn't help but notice you didn’t seem to appreciate."

"I was standing next to a rather unpleasant man, who offended my sensibilities. Accidently, I am sure, but none the less, I felt the need to remove myself from his presence." Did he sound as stupid as he thought he did? God he hoped not. He would never live it down. 

At least no one was there to hear him.

The men sneered at him, not that they had stopped.

"Why so quick? Are you not appreciating our…. hospitality?" Ugly B asked.

Um, no, he wasn’t. "I just have somewhere to be. I will most certainly visit on my way back, if you would prefer." Not. He knew if he saw this place again, it would be too soon.

"I insist you stay the night." B told him.

No way. "I wish I could, but I need to get moving." He tried to get out of the man's arms, without actually shoving him, he knew that wouldn’t end well for him. Ugly A just smirked at him while B tightened his grip on him. From the way his arms were being held behind his back, he knew that he would be bruised after this encounter was over.

"Come on," B said lowly in his ear. He resisted the urge to shiver. He would need to take a long shower after this. "We won't let you go until you agree. What's the harm? We won't hurt you little flower."

That did it. His temper snapped, and while his mind was telling him this was a very bad idea, he fought back. "Why," He asked, head butting the guard holding him, "does everyone insist on calling me that?" Was he snarling like a wild animal? Yes, he was, but that didn’t mean that he regretted it. It felt way too good to actually fight back for once. Before either he or the guards knew better, both men were on the ground in front of him, and he just blinked down. How did that happen, he asked himself.

Someone was beside him, and they spit at the men on the ground. Ugly A got up and charged at him, but the man just took a step to the side and watched as the idiot moved past him. Werner looked at the man, who was covered from head to toe in black with a mask over his face, and tilted his head slightly. He was pretty sure he knew who the other was, but he obviously didn’t want to be known, so he stayed quiet.

The man laughed humorlessly. "You idiots never learn." A rough, muffled voice told them. B stayed down like a smart person, only moving when the man kicked him, while A ran away like a coward.

Werner was a little disappointed that these two were considered guards. What exactly they were guarding was far beyond him. They couldn't even really guard themselves.

Once they were alone, Werner turned to his savior and smirked. He sucked at being grateful. Ask anyone, he just wasn’t any good at it.

"Hello Little Flower."

Werner was expecting to hear the deep baritone voice of the man he had met earlier, not a light, chime-like voice from such a tall man. Now that he was paying attention, this person was broader than Jarlan was. His eyes were more of a chocolate brown than the almost black of the other. Huh.

"Do I know you?" He asked. Rude, sure, but he figured the man deserved it for calling him a flower.

"Not really. Erasmus told us about you. He was the one who told me to say little flower, and, what was it? Spikes, or something like that." He trailed off with a strange look in his barely visible eyes. "Anyway, my name is Botolf. I am a member of the Blood on the Blade, and an illusionist. Erasmus told me he gave you a few books, and sent you out."

Werner blinked. Well, that answered that question. He couldn't believe that he had been right.

"Aren't you supposed to be a bad guy?" He asked.

Botolf snorted. "If that was the case, the two guards would have been dead. And so would you. We aren't an organization bent on world domination, if that’s what you're asking about."

"Then what do you want? Actually, scratch that, I'd rather not know. What do you want with me?"

Botolf just looked at him for a few more seconds, "I doubt you'll believe me, but I just want to teach you. We owe Erasmus a large debt, and he called that debt in to keep an eye on you, protect you until you can protect yourself, and teach you all we can. I'm better at hand to hand combat than battle illusions, but I do know how to use them to protect myself." 

Werner sighed for a moment, and relaxed his shoulders. "You're right, I don’t believe you. I'm almost positive that you'll stab me or something if, or when, I fall asleep."

It didn’t matter though, he was still going with the man, he owed him the chance for an easy kill if nothing else.

The man seemed to realize that he wasn’t going to fight him, and seemed both content and confused with his decision.

"Well, I need to take you to the base. You're surprisingly hard to track down for someone who doesn’t use magic. We've got like ten members looking for you around where Erasmus seemed to think you'd be."

Werner raised an eyebrow. "I live to be difficult." He said dryly.

Well, that was the most truthful he had been all day. Actually, it was the most truthful he had been since he got here. It felt nice to just be able to be honest without having to worry about saying something wrong.

By nature, he was a very honest person, he just used his tone to make it sound like he was lying.   
He wondered if anyone at home had ever picked up on that. Probably not. Not that it mattered, but it was still something to think about.

Botolf nudged him in the side with a sigh. "Erasmus said you were…absent minded, but he didn’t say it was this bad. How are you even still alive?"

"A weird mixture of both kinds of luck, determination not to die, and a pinch of self preservation." He said with a shrug.

"Aint that the truth…" Botolf muttered under his breath. Werner politely did not mention that he could, in fact, hear the other man, and wondered how the man was still alive if he had the habit of talking to himself under his breath.

The man turned to him, as if calculating something, and Werner tensed again. He had a really bad feeling about this.

"Sorry, flower, but this is the fastest way." Botolf apologized. Werner lifted his eyebrow.

"About wha-" There was a careful, calculated hit to his temple, and his vision suddenly went black. His last thought was Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have talked to strangers.

He woke with a large headache. He was laying in a soft cot, which surprised him, considering exactly how he had gotten said headache. He was in a stone room, with a thick oak door that he was certain was locked.

Great.

He knew better than to trust people in this world. Hell, he knew better than to trust people in general. Every time he did, this happened.

Well, he didn’t usually wake up in a cell, but it did always get him into situations that he'd rather not be in.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and got up to pace the room. His body had been grateful for the rest, but his mind was more restless than usual. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. Next time, they should just ask nicely. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere, or had any ideas for what he was supposed to do. He wasn’t exactly the running type, or the type that they had to chain down. He noticed a pressure on his wrist, and cussed. Loudly, and creatively at that.

It wasn’t attached to anything, but he wasn’t stupid. The Blood on the Blade was supposed to be an illusionist… cult? So he couldn't trust his eyes. But, he could trust his sense of touch. The bed looked like it would be uncomfortable, but according to the touch, it was softer than usual. He ran his hand against the wall, and closed his eyes, focusing on finding the small imperfections of the stone. He got all the way around the room before he noticed something. The door wasn’t actually there. He stared at it for a moment, before deciding what the hell, and walking straight into it. He tensed, preparing to crash, but the illusion passed harmlessly over him.

He was now in a stone hallway with cells covering every inch of the hall. There had to be at least fifty of them. Some of them had people, some had actual doors, and some only had the illusion of it which he noticed because he skimmed his mind over it and felt the small tug that he had begun to associate with the feel of an illusion. From the bit that he read, he knew that the caster couldn't have put very much power into it. A strong caster could not only fool the eyes, but they could make the illusions so that they were solid.

Then again, it could just be a weak caster. Not that he could talk. He only knew three small illusions, that were mostly for… His eyes widened. Wait, they were for distractions, and boy did he need a distraction to get out of here.

He crept through the halls, and ducked into the empty rooms when he heard someone coming. His first goal was to find his bag. He wanted, if not needed, his bag with his the spell books that Erasmus had gave him, and he relied, if only lightly, on the supply of food the man had given him.

He wondered if there was a tracking spell he could place on his bag so he wouldn’t have to look in every single room that he passed. He was lucky that there didn’t seem to be that many people in wherever he was. After about twenty minutes of searching, he finally, finally found it sitting innocently in the middle of an empty room. He knew better, knew that it was a trap, but he honestly didn’t care. He strode into the room and picked it up.

Clapping started from near the door. He turned lazily around, and slipped the bag over his shoulder. "Can I help you?" He asked the man.

He was lightly tanned, with big, innocent brown eyes that looked strange with his tall, broad form. He blinked. Wait, he knew those eyes.

"Was there a reason you decided to knock me out?" He asked Botolf exasperated.

The man smiled brightly, while another barked out a laugh.

"I took my cloak back." The other said. Jarlan and Botolf were like day and night. Jarlan's skin was dark, almost the color of well made dark chocolate that his brother favored, with eyes like coffee, and a tall, well built frame. Botolf, on the other hand, was lightly tanned, broader, but not taller, he noticed, with eyes that weren't quite as dark as the others, and were more like the color of coffee with more than just a hint of creamer.

"I was going to give it back anyway." Werner answered with a shrug.

"You seem to be far too calm for someone who was abducted by a group of people." Botolf pointed out.

"What he means," Jarlan interrupted, ignoring the exasperated look that the other was sending him, "is that we expected you ten minutes ago, and we were expecting to have to calm you the fuck down."

Werner snorted. "Who says I'm not freaking out?"

"Then you must be the most calm freaking out person I've ever fucking seen." Jarlan told him. Botolf was muttering to himself about something, but both Werner and Jarlan ignored him.

Something clicked in his mind, and his eyes narrowed. "Wait, did Erasmus tell you to call me flower too?" He asked. Jarlan snorted.

"No, you just looked like someone needed to water you."

"Why flower?" He grumbled to himself.

"You're delicate, have hair that doesn’t really do anything but sit there, and you have big green eyes that look sad and pathetic. You're thin like a stem, and you're seriously wondering where we got the idea? Honestly, kid, haven't you ever heard of, oh I don’t know, food or sleep?"

He purposely widened his eyes and looked up through his lashes at Botolf. "I don’t really look like a flower, do I?"

He saw the other man sputter, and saw Jarlan smack him upside the head. "Kids playing you like a flute."

Botolf stammered for a moment, before seemingly finding his footing again. “I knew that.”

Jarlan snorted, and Werner had to agree. It was ridiculous to think that the man would react like he killed someone's puppy if he didn't believe it, if only for a second or two.

"Moving on gentlemen, we have a matter of greater importance to discuss. Jarlan, you are going to run an errand for me. And flower? You're going to help. "

Werner blinked at the man. "Why would I do that?" He asked in amusement.

Botolf just smirked at him. "Well, Jarlan is the only one who is powerful enough to cast it, and keep it up for a few hours."

"Again, why would I do that?" 

"Who says you have a choice? Jarlan, cast the mind over body set."

Jarlan looked hesitant, but Werner was just confused. "The what?" He asked.

Botolf opened his mouth to explain, but quickly shut it. He turned towards the two for a moment, before turning fully away. "It's much easier to just show you. Jarlan, if you will?" He inclined his head for a moment. "You see, Jarlan doesn't have magic like you and I do. He has an entirely different way to have his little tricks. He is a rune master, which means he relies on tools and the magic in the world for anything to be done. Because of this, he creates relics and uses them to achieve what he wants. Each group paired together is called a set. I'm curious," Werner felt himself freeze, and tried to move, but couldn't. Something wasn’t right, something really bad was going to be happening if he didn’t get himself out of this as soon as possible. "to see if you can do this, even with his help."

Jarlan was looking through his bag, and pulled out a small, smooth stone from a little velvet bag. It was placed in between his outer shirt and inner, held in place by a small sticking spell.

"As long as that's on you, his mind is over your body. Hence the name Mind over Body Set. Jarlan, I need you to break into the western most lord's home. On the third floor, according to our intelligence, is where he keeps his most precious gems. And you, my dear," He turned to Werner with a smirk, "Are going to be the one who actually gets our treasure from the lords bed room itself. Two requests, two of you. Be back before tomorrow night. Good…" He paused, and just looked at him, "Not that you need it, but good luck any ways. May your bodies be graceful as a lion, and deadly as a viper."

Jarlan looked far too serious, and Werner wanted to crack up, but he couldn't. His mind was still his, but his body didn’t seem to be. It was a weird feeling, one that he wasn’t really sure if he disliked. It gave him the time to just dive into his mind and try to figure out exactly what he was feeling about everything, and nothing at the same time.

There was nothing he could do about anything right now anyway. His legs started moving, following Jarlan's lead. That part made his independence chafe, but it was easily settled again when he realized that there really was nothing he could do about it right now. Right now. 

As soon as he was out? He was turning the man's pillow or shoe into a snake or tarantula. And maybe, he would put a dagger disguised as a rock in the man's pallet and let him stab himself.

He snorted inwardly. He knew he wouldn’t, damn his stupid kindness, but it was a nice thought.

For now, he would just walk like a robot and hope he didn’t fall over as soon as the ruins ran out of magic.

It felt like he stopped too soon, and Jarlan took the stone off of him as soon as they were at a little camp site and the sun was disappearing over the horizon.

"You should know better than this." Jarlan told him, sliding a bowl of stew into his lap. Werner stared at the flames, watching them dance and hearing the crackles. He was getting lost in the sound and feel of warmth, but for now, he couldn't let himself.

"Know better than what?" He asked, not letting himself look towards the fire, or the other man. Instead, he watched the stars, imagining the feel of their cool stare on his slight frame.

"Relaxing around strangers." Jarlan replied. He could hear a slight scolding that the other was suppressing clear as day.

"And what makes you think that?"

A hand on his shoulder started him out of his thoughts "Who did you lose?"

The question startled him more than anything the man could have said. "What?" He choked out.

"Who did you lose? I know a few people who have the same look, though its usually when they know people aren't looking at them." Jarlan was shrugging, like he hadn't brought up dark memories that he never wanted to think of again.

"I'm not talking about it, especially with someone like you!" He snapped. Jarlan just raised an eyebrow.

"So either its recent, or you blame yourself for it."

Werner jumped to his feet, fists balled up, before he caught himself. He took five deep breaths with his eyes closed, trying to remember that it was a bad idea to punch anyone. He would end up feeling worse about it than the one who hurt him ever did.

"That is none of your business!" He said coolly, forcing his fingers to relax against his sides.

Jarlan watched him for a few moments, before nodding to himself. "Guilt then. Unless you were the one who physically ended their life, with your own hands, then it's not your fault."

"Whatever." He muttered, falling back on the grass, and watching the stars. He didn’t want to think of her again, not right now. He fell asleep soon after Jarlan had, and trusted the stars to just watch over him.

It happened on a normal day for them. Dari was in his favorite pair of soft, worn jeans, and had a blue t-shirt on. Werner was in his identical pants, but had a green shirt on. They were eight, almost nine. There was something to be said about how the twins acted. At school, Dari was loud, and rambunctious, the teachers would always tell his mom and dad that he had a lot of potential to be great. He wasn’t a bad kid, but he was nothing like Werner, who preferred to be by himself when it came to school. His teachers, when asked about him, would always lie.

He didn’t know why, but they would, but they would say that he was a difficult child. Not a bad one, they would always say, but he wasn’t the easiest child that they had ever taught. He was quiet, and painfully shy. Darius left him to his own, and always had. From their first day of school, it was obvious that Darius was the social butterfly. He had stayed by his twin brother for the first five minutes, before going off to socialize. Werner stayed huddled in the corner. He still had trouble answering questions, of any kind, from anyone. He needed to be off in his own little world.

At home, the twins were rarely away from each other. Darius prodded his brother until he would talk, Werner always had the best ideas for games. Werner had no trouble talking loudly, and with excitement.

On this day, he had been playing with two sticks as two knights who were in a tournament. He hadn't been feeling very good, and he was about to just let his brother win, even if Dari wasn’t going to stop bragging that he had won for weeks.

One second, he was trying to figure out how to lose gracefully. The next, he heard his brother scream, and felt too hot. His eyes were heavy, and it took him a few seconds to be able to get his eyes open. When he did, Dari was over him, shaking him far too roughly for his already aching belly.

"Stop it Dari." He mumbled, swiping at it brothers hands.

"Mom! Ashy!" Darius screamed again. Werner looked around, confused. His head was fuzzy, and his eyes hurt. He curled up on the cool cement, and tried to sleep until he felt better. Someone had their hands on his head, and he heard them tisk.

Ashton. That was her voice. She picked him up, and he mumbled again, in protest.

"Has he been tired today, Dari?" she asked. His eyes were closed, but he knew his twin was nodding a lot.

"Stop that Dari. M'fine. Can play in a minute. 's let me sleep for a sec." He frowned when his ears translated his voice. That wasn’t what he meant to say, but there was a tickle in his throat that he didn’t want to try it again. He had felt horrible all day, and talking just made it worse.

"He has a temperature." He heard Ashy tell his twin. "Which means he's going to need a cool washcloth over his head, and bed. Can you go and wet a washcloth for me with cold water and put it next to his bed?" She asked calmly.

Darius ran inside, and he heard the glass door slide shut.

She moved slowly, and talked quietly to him. He hated being picked up and carried, but at this point, he didn’t really feel like arguing. It wasn’t fair how she could lift him up so easily.

She laid him in his bed, and Darius helped her pull the covers up over him. A cool cloth was placed on his head, and he protested slightly. It was too cold.

Ashton shushed him, and ran her hand through his hair. "Go get the phone, Dari, and tell mom to pick up some kids medicine for him. Tell her I think he has the flu, then go watch tv. I don’t want to risk you getting sick. Can you do that for me?"

That was the thing about his older sister. She was eight years older than Dari and him, so she took care of them when mom and dad were at work. She had just gotten a car the previous summer to help be able to take them places.

She was silly enough for Dari, and loved to read to them. He loved it too. Darius would always fall asleep after a few pages from boredom, but he would always look forward to her reading to him from whatever she had been reading that week. Ashton, like dad, had plain brown hair, and light brown eyes.

She tisked for a few seconds, and jumped when she heard the front door. Dad must be home. She gave him a quick kiss on his sweaty temple, before going to the door.

"Hey, Ashy?" He asked quietly, his voice raw from pain. He saw her turn around, and raise an eyebrow at him. "Can someone get me some soup?"

She gave him a small smile. "Hungry?" She asked.

He shook his head. "Not really, but you said I should make sure t' eat anyways, right?"

He wouldn’t know it until later, but her eyes watered for a moment. It was a secret she would take to her grave. "Sure. Tomato basil? With crackers?"

That was another thing about her. While mom and dad never get their favorites right, Ashton had never gotten them wrong.

"W'th crackers." He mumbled, losing the battle with his eyelids, and falling almost asleep.

He heard someone yelling, and the door slam.


	5. Chapter 5

He bolted up, sweat clinging to his entire body. He pressed his hands against his eyes and tried not to cry. He hated dreaming of the last time he saw his sister. He didn't count at the funeral.

Ashton never stayed still, and hated wearing makeup and dresses. The person in the coffin was dressed in a frilly pink dress with makeup on her features. That person had perfectly curled hair that stayed in place, and was brushed until it shined, just without the added frizz.

That person was not his sister. She wasn't perfect. Everyone at the funeral kept trying to make her out to be some saint.

He snorted through his tears. She had been the one to teach Dari and him their first curse words, and about ten others over the years.

He paused, and looked up at the setting moon. He had been asleep for maybe three or four hours.

It wasn't fair how a single dream could affect him enough to call Darius by his annoying, childhood nickname. Now days, he called him Darry dear, but just plain old Dari, like Kari but with a D, wasn't something he had uttered since the day she died.

Then again, no one had called him by his childhood nickname since then anyway. Not that he wanted them too. It wouldn't have been a very useful piece of blackmail, though, since he didn't react to it like Dari did.

Eugh, the idiots name was Darius, Dar- ri- ous. He wouldn't go back to that nickname. He thought that Dari, mom and dad died about the same time Ashton did. In their place were the shells left over. Darius, mother and father. His childhood innocent side had died when she was placed in the ground.

Suddenly, he stiffened, and yanked the dagger out from in his shirt in a casual gesture not meant to arouse suspicion. There were people behind him, watching him. He should have known. He never woke from that dream that early. In fact, he never woke from a dream until he reached the end.

Unless there was trouble. He stood and stretched his arms over his head, sliding the dagger into the sleeve of his shirt as he went. He walked over to a sleeping Jarlan and casually stabbed him with his elbow, receiving a low grunt.

"How many?" He muttered, keeping his mouth as still as possible.

"Fourteen that I see. They were just watching." Jarlan replied just as quietly.

Werner knew he needed to do something, but he wasn't sure what he could do. There really wasn't anything. Hopefully, Jarlan would have something, he thought in exasperation, then made a mental note to get the next three illusions learned. Speaking of...

He got out the medium dagger and muttered. Next to his hand, sat an innocent looking dark brown stone that was covered in dirt and covered in little holes. He picked it up, and examined the illusion under the moonlight. He knew what it was, but that wasn't how it felt, or how he saw it. He shook his head with a small laugh, and sat it down. On the other side. In other words, within reach of Jarlan.

He patted the other man's hand, and got up again. There was nothing he could do if he was next to the idiot. Nothing, except holding him back.

A hand was at his neck, about to snap it, and a tall thin man was behind him. He squeaked in surprise. Most people knew better than to do that to him of all people. Jarlan bolted up, panicked beyond what Werner could understand.

Jarlan was surrounded by men, and one of them sliced at his cheek. They weren't playing fair, he noticed with amusement. That was alright. He never had either. He kneed the man, and broke his hand. Another two men came towards him, and he pulled two of the thin throwing knives from his shirt.

"Bring it on, idiots." He muttered.

There was a reason that people thought he was in a gang. There was a reason that everyone thought he was dangerous.

He was.

These men were stupid enough to find that out the hard way. Not that they would survive long enough to regret their decision. Idiots.

Before he knew it, he was lost in the pleasant rush of adrenaline. It was nice to be doing something he was good at again. He usually fought to disable his opponents, but this time, he had no way to do that, and still live. It scared him a bit to realize how little it scared him to take these lives. One word echoed through his head, one that Dari had said on the last night that he had been alive.

Monster.

Oh, how right you are, he mentally purred. It was alright though, monsters get to live another night, and can only be killed by a hero. As it was, these men were not the heroic type. Idiots. He snorted as they fell for a simple side step. He wasn't even really trying anymore, and just let them knock themselves out.

Everyone else? Well, they fall by the monsters hand, at least in legends.

And here too, he noticed with a small inward huff. Fighting was something that both sped up time for him, and slowed it down. It made no sense, even to him, but the overall fight would speed by, while the punches and slashes seemed to go in slow motion.

Which was why he wasn't surprised at all that the fight was over so quickly. The last of his enemies fell with a knife to the heart. His dark green eyes scanned the area for any other signs of life. One more person was coming towards him, and he forced back the killing haze.

Jarlan was walking towards him with his arms up in surrender. He couldn't help but quirk his lips.

"You sane again?" Jarlan asked.

Werner barked out a laugh, and held his hand out for his blade. Once it was placed in his hands, he froze, and looked at the other in horror. The look moved to his own hand, covered in cooling blood. That wasn't the part that bothered him though.

He stumbled back against a tree.

"Alright, so now really isn't the best time to have a mental breakdown." He muttered to himself. "So what, it's not that big of a deal. People do it all the time."

Jarlan sat next to him, and placed his hand on the others shoulder.

"I would be surprised if you weren't having a mental breakdown." Jarlan told him, moving the hand to his neck, and rubbing softly.

"No, it's not even worth thinking about. Why am I still thinking about it?" He asked.

"Because you're not a monster." The other whispered.

Werner snorted. "Of course I am, but what does that have to do with anything?"

Jarlan raised an eyebrow at him, and spoke like he was speaking to a toddler. "You just killed people."

"Well, yes. It isn't something I'm exactly keen on doing again."

"And thus the mental breakdown."

It was Werner's turn to look at the other like his head was screwed on wrong. Realization dawned on his features. "Oh, you think that..." He burst into laughter. "No, you idiot."

"...has anyone ever mentioned that you may not be fully sane?" Jarlan asked.

"Maybe, but they don't really count, because I know they aren't."

They looked at each other for a few moments, before Werner let out a long sigh and dropped his head back against the tree they were resting on. "I held out my hand, and didn't have an almost panic attack."

"What?" Jarlan asked.

"I have this weird thing that pretty much controls my life. Like I can't take an even amount of steps before stopping, or I have to take the knives out of their sheaths three times before I can polish them. That one is new, but just as annoying. Another of those weird quirks is that I can't let people hand me things. Most people just set it down, and I grab it from there. I can't even accept things from my family, let alone someone who works with a secret organization that may or may not be trying to kill me."

Jarlan just watched him, silent for a moment, before speaking. His voice was quiet, and understanding, without any of the judgment that he had gotten when the idiot that diagnosed his OCD had in her voice. "So, these little things, are there others? Are there any that I need to know about?"

Werner watched him out of the corner of his eye. "I do most things in threes, unless it's a bad day. I haven't had a bad day in a while, but then I do things in nines. When I eat, I take three bites, then a sip of whatever liquid I have, usually water, then repeat. I always take three gulps when I'm really thirsty, and never more. Um, you might hear me counting under my breath sometimes, which I have no idea why I do. As for things that are in battle, I haven't really fought enough to really be able to spot any weird quirks, besides that when I fight to disable, I always either knock them out by hitting the temple, using a pressure point on the back of the neck, or break their dominant wrist, and I have a really weird habit of alternating. So, last time I fought, I broke the guys hand, the time before that, I hit a guys temple. Next time, it will probably be a quick hit to the back of the neck."

He was sure he would find some quirk when it came to killing as well, but for now, he wouldn't say anything about it.

He was surprised Jarlan was reacting so well, his mother had... well, let's just say no one in his family reacted very well when he was diagnosed. Darius flat out said he was faking. No one else believed the woman, but Werner knew she was telling the truth. When it started getting out of hand, he had been ten, and looked it up himself, skeptical about it, but not surprised when a doctor, not even two years later, had told his parents about it.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Anxiety. Those words were always capitalized in his head because he hated them. They ruled his life, and, he bitterly thought, the only ruler should be himself.

He shook off the thoughts, there were other things he needed to do, clean off the blood, memorize illusions, and figure out how to get where he needed to go, and not get killed. He did not need to be spilling his guts to a guy who may try and stab him, probably with his own knife too, while he was sleeping.

He felt his adrenaline fade, and sighed to himself. No, not now.

He knew the warnings of an upcoming insomnia attack, and this was one of those annoying signs. His mind was restlessly going in circles, over and over an idea until it was difficult to think straight. Sometimes, they would just pop up, and he would get in bed at night, and just not be able to sleep. Sometimes, like tonight, his mind suddenly was overwhelmed by things he needed to do, or in this case, should have done.

"What?" Jarlan's voice startled him out of his thought.

"Nothing. Ignore it."

The hand on his neck squeezed in reprimand, but he didn't speak.

"So, you mean that this is because..." Jarlan trailed off, giving him a slightly awkward look.

"Because you handed me my knife." He answered, annoyed that something so small for most people could send him in a panic attack. "Yeah, pathetic, right?"

"Not pathetic, just different. I won't let my food touch, outside of stews." Jarlan confessed.

"Oh god," Werner snorted, "Should we pull out the nail polish and talk about... you don't even know what that is, do you?"

"I can pretend I do, if you prefer." Jarlan offered. He looked so honest in that moment, that Werner almost believed him.

"Nah, it's cool. I'm trying not to make pop references. Erasmus just smacked me when I started them." He snickered to himself. It wasn't really funny, and his hurt almost constantly while he was there, but he wouldn't change a thing.

"Shouldn't we move again?" He asked suddenly, looking over at Jarlan.

"Probably." He agreed. "But honestly? I'm too tired to care. Botolf would throw a fit if he knew we were staying in the same area that we were attacked in."

"Hey, Jarlan?" He waited until he had the others attention. Gratitude and himself did not work very well together. So, instead of saying thanks or anything else sappy, he snarked. "There's a dead body in my spot."

The rest of the journey to the kingdom was rather boring. Jarlan and he didn't speak another word for the rest of the way. Which was fine, he didn't really want to be talking right now anyway. He still felt some blood flaking under his nails, and he was doing his best to pick at them, hoping that it would help. Not that it was, he thought bitterly.

The castle in front of him was different than what he was expecting. Then again, everything about this place was different than what he expected, so he wasn't sure why he was surprised about this. From the looks of the land, he had guessed he was in some sort of medieval world, but every time he thought he had it figured out, it did something like this.

For example, this castle should have been made of stone, or something normal, but it wasn't. It was, he looked again, unsure if he was really seeing what he thought he was. No, he wasn't going to think the word. Not now.

"Hey, Jarlan?" He asked unsure if he wanted to speak. The other hummed quietly in response.

"Um, is that castle...?"

"Glowing? Yeah. The westernmost region, which is about a three days trip from here, discovered a mineral that glowed in the dark, and well, yeah..."

He looked at the other for a second. He made his tone as dry as possible. "So, are you telling me that there's something natural that makes things sparkle worse than every teenage girls favorite dream?"

Jarlan looked confused. "Um, I'm not sure I know how to answer that."

Werner shook his head. "Never mind. It's not even worth explaining." He sighed.

"Is this one of those times where you told me to smack you for?" Jarlan asked.

He tried not to roll his eyes, and turned back to his companion. "Yes, Jay, this is exactly one of those times."

There was a deadly silence, and he tried not to freak out as Jarlan actually froze. "What," He asked dangerously, his voice deeper and darker than Werner had ever heard before, "did you just call me?"

Werner blinked."Um, Jay?"

Next thing he knew, he was being shoved roughly against the sparkling gates, and trying not to freak out. One person having a mental break down at a time.

There was a dagger at his throat, and his head was tugged back. "If you ever call me that again," Jarlan hissed, "I will slice out your vocal cords and use them to hang you."

"Damn, someone needs a nap." Werner muttered, shoving the other away from him.

"Hey! I do not! Just don't call me that, and there won't be a problem."

Werner gave the other a dry look, "Sure, I'll stop calling you Jay, as soon as you stop calling me flower."

"Not going to happen, little flower. Now, shut up so I can get to work."

And with that, it seemed like there was nothing he could do to keep the others attention. Jarlan was focused solely on a set of stones he had laid out in front of him. It was weird, he couldn't help but notice, how many things in this stupid world glowed.

Like Jarlan, and his creepy eyes, usually dark, like coffee, but now seemed to glow with power. It was a little creepy, he knew, but it was kind of cool, honestly.

What wasn't cool, was the fact that he was suddenly frozen again. The other lopped a stone on a string around his neck. As soon as it touched him, it seemed to take away his body once again.

He huffed inwardly. This was so not cool. Even if he wanted to beg Jarlan to teach him how to do it.

Jarlan snickered.

He wondered if the other could hear him, so, just to be annoying, he suddenly let one word ring loudly in his mind. It was like he shouted it, only in his head.

Hello!

Jarlan grimaced, and brought one hand up to rub at his head.

That's just creepy. He thought to the other, knowing now that Jarlan was in his head.

"Shut up, you have no right to talk, do you have any idea what I've had to listen to?"

Werner raised his eyebrow. Of course he did, it was his mind, he had to listen to it all the time. Although, he was slightly annoyed that someone was able to hear him all day, he was slightly impressed that the man hadn't started yelling at him yet.

"Look, just don't fight me." Jarlan whispered, pushing his power into the amulet. Werner hissed through his teeth. Jarlan raised an eyebrow at him, but he couldn't help it, it hurt. He could feel the feeling of wrong inside his body. The magic wasn't his, and he didn't want it, no, his magic didn't want it in him.

It fought inside, and his stomach started to churn. He tried to accept it, and take it as his own. The next thing he knew Jarlan was the one on the ground, hissing in pain. Werner tried to move again, and to his surprise, found that he could go over to the other. Then he realized the problem. His magic wasn't just accepting the others, it was eating it.

He knew he was causing the other pain, but he wasn't able to stop. He tried to stop, but couldn't figure it out. Somehow, he knew the others magic was draining at a rapid rate, but he couldn't... wait, maybe...

He suddenly tore himself away from the other, and it suddenly faded. Both men were gasping for breath, and both were on their knees.

"Let's not do that again, alright?" Werner huffed.

Jarlan nodded, unable to speak yet. It took a few minutes to calm both of them down enough to actually have them become able to speak again, but once they could, Jarlan leveled a glare at the other.

"Never again." He huffed, trying to think.

"Never again." Werner agreed.

They stayed silent for a few more minutes, before Jarlan threw his hands up in annoyance. Werner raised an eyebrow at him.

"Now how are we supposed to break in? I'm over half drained, thanks for that by the way, so now what? We have to get those stupid things, otherwise Botolf will have both of our asses..." He ranted, although, Werner noticed, it was mostly to himself.

"Well, one thing's for sure, we are never doing that again."

"But I have to," Jarlan growled, his voice was low in annoyance.

"Why?" He asked, feeling the annoyance wash over him as well.

"How else can someone like you be expected to steal something without getting your ass caught?"

Werner thought for a moment, something interesting coming to mind. "Can you even control my body while not seeing it anyway?"

That made Jarlan pause.

"I... I don't know." He admitted.

Werner smacked himself in the head. "You mean we got all the way here, and you didn't even know if you could manage to keep up your ruins, and run a few others at the same time?"

Jarlan looked sheepish, which, Werner admitted, looked strange on his dark skin, and full, masculine features.

"It wasn't like I was having trouble with you yesterday. What happened by the way?"

It was Werner's turn to pause. That was true, he hadn't noticed the spell outside of the whole physically not able to move, thing. Today, it was more obvious, and it hurt. It was like his body hadn't expected it yesterday, so it hadn't been able to fight it off. Today, however, since he knew what was coming, it wasn't acceptable to fall under Jarlan's thrall.

Which didn't make any sense. It shouldn't have been recognized so quickly, and he most certainly shouldn't have been able to stop it so quickly.

He breathed out, trying to figure out how to say it without sounding stupid. After all, it wasn't exactly something he really wanted to tell anyone. It seemed like it should be a private thing, something that he shouldn't tell anyone about. It seemed like his magic was growing the more it interacted with others.

"I don't know." It was a half truth, but it wasn't exactly something he would normally do, mostly because he always felt overwhelming guilt when he lied. He felt the usual pain in his chest for a moment, before he mentally shrugged it off.

Jarlan gave him a look that said he didn't believe him, but said nothing. That was alright, even if he really didn't know exactly what had happened, he didn't believe himself either. He was sure if he spent some time in his head, he could figure out what it was.

"Do you trust me?" He asked suddenly.

"Not as far as I can throw you." Jarlan replied. That was fine, he didn't trust himself either. But for this, he needed the other to believe just this one thing.

"I promise that I will come back, but I have a feeling that I was supposed to do this without your help anyway. It wouldn't make much sense for Botolf to send us here, and not expect something like this to go wrong. Then again, even someone like him can't expect everything."

That made Jarlan's eyes narrow. Werner had basically dissed the other without actually saying anything insulting, which was easy enough to do. Like he expected, Jarlan came to the others defense.

"Botolf can plan for anything." He defended sharply.

Werner hid his smirk. "Well, if that was the case, then he would have planned for me to do this by myself, and if that's the case, then you wouldn't be believing in your precious leader. But that's alright, I don't believe him either."

That did exactly what he expected. Jarlan snapped at him.

"Fine, if you think you can do it by yourself, then do it."

"I will then."

Jarlan looked at him for a second, then gave a small sigh. "You just played me didn't you?"

Werner gave him a cheeky grin. "Like a flute." He mimicked, repeating the words the other had used the day before.

Jarlan groaned. "Fine flower, do your thing. Quick question before you do though. What exactly is your plan for breaking into a castle with at least three hundred guards, and getting in and out of one of the most secure places in the entire place?"

Werner thought for a moment. "Well..."

"That's what I thought."

Werner glared for a moment. "I'm not the one who fell for something so pathetic." He snorted.

"I'm not the one who looks enough like a little Flower to pull it off." Jarlan snarked back.

He froze for a moment, his mind going ninety miles an hour, before stopping with a smirk. "I have an idea."

Jarlan glanced at him. "What?"

"I said, I know how to get in and out, without pulling all the alarms."

"Actually," Jarlan corrected, "You said you have an idea."

Werner gave him an exasperated look. "If you already knew that, why did you ask?"

He tried not to look too innocent. Which, Werner noticed, was weird, because it should be impossible for someone as large as Jarlan to give someone the innocent look. Not that it would work on him of all people. He was a master at giving the look, and therefore immune to it.

"Who says I did?" Jarlan asked.

"I just..." He sighed to himself for a moment. "You know what, never mind, I don't care. In fact, that is the last thing I'm going to be thinking about for a long time. Just worry about getting yourself out without trouble." Jarlan gave him a look, but he ignored it.

He knew what he could do, and as long as he knew what they would do, it wouldn't be that big of a deal for him.

He smirked for a moment, more to himself, but he did feel a little pleased when Jarlan gave him a look that asked what the hell was wrong with his head. That was fine though, as long as Jarlan kept out of his head, he would keep whatever sanity that he may have had.

"Any casualties?" He asked, half curious, but mostly just needing the last bit of information to make his plan fall into place.

Jarlan shook his head, "Not unless it's necessary." He told him.

Werner nodded a bit, and strode out of their hiding place towards where he knew the room would be. He wasn't sure how he knew that this would work, but he knew it would. He fell into that feeling in his mind, his magic, and yanked it up, wrapping it around his body.

It was a rather weak illusion, he could feel it straining, and knew it wouldn't last long, but considering he shouldn't know how to do it, he felt as if it should be. They would know if he bumped into them, and could probably hear his steps, but his illusion just bent the light around him, making it seem like he disappeared. Instead of sneaking into the castle by a window, or whatever plan Jarlan had, he walked through the front gates, and up to the inner building, then inside the front door.

There were guards around him, but he wasn't worried about them. They were playing this world's version of poker at a table, and not paying any attention to him. He was almost positive that even if he lowered his illusion, they wouldn't see him. He walked closer to the table and glanced down. The stakes were rather high, he noticed, seeing the piles of silver coins, and the three gold ones. He wasn't sure why, but he grabbed three of the silvers off the side of the table and put them in his pocket, before walking up into the winding towers that he knew was where the kings and lords slept, at least in every castle he had ever seen.

They all looked different on the outside, but on the inside, and where the royal chambers were, usually stayed rather constant. So, with that in mind, he moved over to the stairs, and moved up and up.

He stopped on what seemed like a random floor, and moved towards where the guards were the thickest. He snorted silently, the idiots were playing with dice, and one buffoon, he couldn't help but notice, was asleep in his wooden chair, leaned back slightly. He smirked slightly to himself. If he needed a distraction to get out, then this man would be in for a hell of a wake up call.

As he moved down the halls, and deeper into the castle, he noticed, as he expected, the guards went from far too many, to barely any. He knew a lot of people didn't want to be constantly watched, and even royals needed a place to vent when days got bad. So, logically, it only made sense that the one place in the entire castle where there were no guards outside the door was one of the royal's rooms.

Sure enough, when he opened the thick, wooden doors, he saw a rather elaborate room. He frowned to himself. It seemed like it was more for a show of wealth, and not really lived in. But, there was a drawer that had clothing poking out, and the bed looked like it hadn't been made yet. Not that big of a surprise, but it meant that he needed to hurry. A man servant or slave, or whatever they were would be there soon to start getting everything cleaned up.

From here, he had two choices. He could either ransack the place, and make it obvious that someone had been there, or let his OCD take over for a few minutes.

He shifted from one foot to another, before making up his mind. He cleaned. It was nice to let himself do what he had been craving ever since he had gotten there. He cleaned.

The bed was made, clothing picked up, drawers fully closed, everything perfect. He looked at it with a satisfied smirk, and threw the large emerald, probably the size of a baseball, that he had, ehem, found under the lords, kings?, pillow, and the box that he was sent to get under the bed. He shuttered. The man needed to hire new help if that was considered clean.

Rolling his eyes, Werner this was too easy. He smirked. This was too easy. He strode out of the room, and pulled his illusion up when he was a few halls away. Everyone was just ignoring him. The few times someone did look his way, he was promptly dismissed as a threat.

Those idiots.

He got out of the castle with little problem. Well, almost. There was one little detail he should have thought to ask before he left the other. Where exactly were they supposed to meet after they got out?

He twirled one of the coins through his fingers, and tried to figure out what he was supposed to do now. He walked casually to where they first split up, and leaned against a tree, relaxing and waiting.

About five minutes later, someone rung the bell in the tower. He tensed for a few moments, before realizing that there was no way he was about to be caught. He waited for a few more minutes, before realizing the problem.

Jarlan.

He mentally cursed. There was no way a man of that size could be sneaky, and even if he managed to get in, with his intimidating frame, he would be noticed quicker than someone who was unassuming like Werner was.

He cursed again when he realized there was nowhere else for him to go, and that he actually needed the idiot in order to get back. Great.

From there, he had another two choices. He could wait here until Botolf realized something went wrong and sent someone for them. He could suffocate the last bit of his self preservation, and go in while trying to get Jarlan out. Or, he thought, rolling the idea around in his head, he could leave and just wander around until there was something that he actually needed to do. He could leave the little box in a place that Jarlan would find.

He could be hired somewhere as a servant or something, so that he could finally do some cleaning. There was only so much cleaning someone could do when they were acting like Nomads. Then again, there was a whole world here that he could spend some time learning. Besides, he thought with a smirk, he needed the time to learn more of his magic, since everyone seemed so keen on keeping him from learning.

He hid the box under a bush were near where Jarlan had shoved him against the wall, and walked away.


	6. Chapter 6

*Six Months Later*

"Hey! Flower!" A voice to his right hissed almost into his ear.

That stupid voice seemed to penetrate the fog of his mind, and he blearily opened his eyes. He wasn't very pleased with being woken from the first sleep he had in almost four days. But, alas, he knew he needed to wake up, even if it was just enough to get whoever was bugging him to leave him alone.

"What?" He asked, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

"Wake up you utter buffoon! This is not the time for your sleep deprived body to actually catch up!" The person was clearly Jarlan, and it took a few seconds for him to recognize that something wasn't right.

"Oh." He mumbled, trying to wake up enough to actually figure out why Jarlan was next to him and ticked off.

Jarlan turned his head to an angle where he could see the other and the heavy chains that bound them both. "Seriously? 'Oh?' That's your reaction? We've been captured, and stripped, and all you have to say is oh?"

Werner thought quickly, or at least as quickly as his exhausted mind could, and tried to figure out what the other wanted to hear. "Um. Oops."

If he could, Werner was pretty sure Jarlan would have strangled him. Probably with the chains already around his neck. Luckily for him though, Jay was cuffed down to a hard, thick piece of wood that was bolted to a table. That was bolted to the floor.

Whoever wanted them captured certainly wanted to make sure that he couldn't escape. Well, he thought bitterly and running his tongue over his teeth, considering he had the same treatment possibly a foot away may have meant that neither of them were supposed to. But still, when in fault, never admit it and blame Jarlan.

"I don't suppose," Jarlan asked through clenched teeth, "that your fancy magic trick can get us out of here?"

"I don't know." He mumbled, hoping that there was something in his book of tricks that could help him. He mentally went through all the illusions that may be able to help him out of something like this.

Maybe if he had gotten further in his book than just basic illusions he could figure something out.

He felt a slow smirk overtake his features. A real, honest, dangerous, slightly creepy smirk.

"Stab yourself." He commanded. Jarlan looked at him like he had his head screwed on backwards. Werner was enjoying it, and he knew that if he said as much, the other would try and decapitate him as soon as they got out. He shook his head. No one trusted him to know what was going on, or what could be done when situations got... messy.

Which sucked. He was usually right.

"Excuse me?"

"Stab yourself. Or should I say, make yourself bleed copiously on my hand."

The look he was getting was one of disbelief. Jarlan shook his head, before resting it on the wood. "You actually are trying to kill me." Jarlan muttered, more to himself than to him. "I must be insane. Fucking afterlife doesn't scare me anyway. Fine. But if this doesn't work, or it does, and you leave me here, be warned, I will find my own way out, and shove hey down your throat until you suffocate. Or just tell everyone to remember your first name in the guild." That made Werner twitch. It had taken months and months of planning, pranking, and straight up threatening to get most people to stop calling him flower. Specifically the idiots who were bested by him when he didn't even know magic. The only people who actually got away with calling him that was Botolf, because he didn't want to be stuck in the desert again after pranking him, and Jarlan. The later needed no extra explanation.

"Just fucking trust me. For once."

The other watched him for a few moments. "The only sharp things are those damn chains, and who knows where they've been."

"If worst comes to worse, I can reattach your hand you know." Werner told the other.

"That is the least comforting thing I've ever heard." Jarlan told him, but started pushing and pulling his wrists in their binds, causing the sharp metal to shred part of his wrist. Werner hissed in sympathy, but allowed the warm liquid to touch his finger tips. Thankfully, they were right next to each other, and he didn't have a problem getting the blood he needed.

It was then that he let his magic flare out, absorbing the blood and the energy in it. Both hissed at the feeling, but after a brief fight between his magic and Jarlan's he took it as his own. They had done this a few times. It was basically both a power boost, and an offering to his magic.

The only person who knew he could do more than what the average illusionist could, was Jarlan. They had worked together on many cases in the past few months. Excluding a few minor incidents, they made a rather useful team.

Jarlan's runic magic actually liked Werner's illusions. But sometimes, he needed it to be a little different. He needed it to affect the actual object, not just fool the senses. He pressed his magic against the chains, and felt them do what he had hoped. They melted, leaving a puddle of metal in place of the thick, hardy chain.

Jarlan raised an eyebrow at him. "That's new."

"Not really," Werner muttered, forcing his magic into the others chains, and twisting his hand slightly. The metal holding Jarlan down seemed to come alive, melting, like the other, but moving and wrapping itself around his wrist in a thick, complex band that almost came to his elbow.

He could tell Jarlan was impressed, but he wasn't really doing anything worth bragging about.

It took two minutes for Jarlan to pick the lock on the cell, and soon enough they were on their way. Werner made a quick stop to the royal treasury, and grabbed the gem they had been commissioned to steal. 

He also grabbed three gold coins, and three silver ones. He considered it payment for showing the castle exactly where they were weakest. No place was truly ever secure, so he considered it his calling to show the idiots with money exactly what they were doing wrong.

And when one has a calling, they get paid for it. Depending on the strength of their defenses, he took different amounts. When he was dealing with idiots, and got a quick in and out, it was seven gold coins, and five silver ones. The gold ones, which he now knew as vyram, were apparently not gold at all, but a substance that was mined only by those who looked on the first blood moon of the year. It was precious, and a single vyram could last him weeks. The silver ones, paluh, were a more common, but equally precious metal.

He also noticed that if they had precious gems, he took a few. It started with his first emerald, then moved to a few smaller rubies, then a few sapphires, diamonds, and so on. After doing as many cases as he had, he was the owner of a rather large collection of precious jewels.

There was something he learned after that first trip west. Well, two things really. The first was that the Blood on the Blades really sucked at tracking people down. He had been AWOL for almost three and a half weeks before Jarlan found him, and it took another day for Jarlan to drag him back to the base. The second thing was that he was actually really good at stealing. Was that a good thing? Maybe not. But he had never exactly been known for his morals, so he wasn't surprised when he learned how to steal, and found out that he enjoyed the adrenaline rush.

He enjoyed taking jobs from different sources, and mostly stayed away from the Blood on the Blade, as he called them in his head. It was better for someone like him to be unknown, and sadly, in the Blood on the Blade, he was really well known.

Most of them still seemed to hold a grudge against him for taking so long to find, and he knew that Erasmus had been keeping up with his news, even if he hadn't seen the older man in almost eight months.

Ironically, they started calling him Nightshade, or some other crap like that, when they spoke about him in public places. Sadly, all of his cliental did as well. It was enough to make him twitch in annoyance.

He wasn't stupid, nightshade was a type of plant, and therefore they were calling him flower. At least this one wasn't as obvious as coming out and saying it, he thought, cleaning his blades as he walked out. He had an illusion over himself, so that he looked like a servant cleaning a shoe.

Was it the most creative thing he had ever done? No, not even close, he thought with an inward snort. But it got the job done.

And now his job was done. He nodded at Jarlan who was waiting for him in the nearby trees. Werner got close enough to throw the treasure, hidden as a large rock at the others head, before going off in a random direction.

After the first few times, Jarlan didn't even bother trying to make him go back to base. It never worked very well. For either of them.

Werner didn't want to go back with him today. Some days, he would walk with Jarlan either all the way to the base, or only part way, before going off on his own.

Today, though, he had somewhere to be. He waved over his shoulder and started off towards his home.

It was about half a day's walk outside of the capital, which meant it was about three hours from here. He didn't have a home, as far as anyone except Jarlan was aware. He just roamed, looking for jobs or knowledge to trade for food or shelter. Which was stupid.

The only way to get to know your surroundings is to be forced into interacting with them on a regular basis. Which was what he did. He lived on the outskirts of a small village, with whom he interacted regularly, or at least, he did when he was in town. Thoughts of his home made him walk faster. It wasn't exactly big, per say, but it was comfortable. And his.

It wasn't a one room hut, like most of the homes in his village, but a two room one. The first room was a kitchen, living room, and dining room all in one. It was mostly made of things he had melted down and redesigned.

He hadn't been kidding about that not exactly being a new spell. Most of the things in his home weren't made of wood, but metal. That was one of the reasons that he was considered a semi-rich man. He wasn't exactly poor, having never used any of the coins he had stolen, but he wasn't rich either. It was simply that metals were easier for him to work with than wood or stone.

The metal was melted into beautiful shapes, and patterns. And that was what most people here thought he did, they thought he was a metal smith. Werner basked in the sunlight, and looked around for a moment, before deciding that the road was empty. Then, he did something that apparently was frowned upon in this society. He slid off his boots, and carried them, while he walked barefoot through the cool dirt and slightly warmer grass.

He sighed in relief. In this world, being fully covered, and in multiple layers, was seen as good manners. He had yet to see any skin on anyone except for prisoners. There was a weird thing about how those with status were supposed to cover their hands too, which both Botolf and Jarlan did on the occasion where they wanted to, but he didn't. He liked not wearing any shoes as he roamed, or walked. He liked wearing shorts, or being able to go around without a top. And, to his surprise, he missed his jeans and t-shirts more than he thought was possible.

He had to do as the people did in this world until he knew enough to be able to make waves, and guess what would happen. That didn't mean, of course, that he didn't spend a lot of his time in his lovely little hut without his shirt on. If he had any less decency, he was sure that he would have just walked around his home in his small clothes, but alas, he wouldn't.

People kept coming by his house. It was rather annoying, and that was probably the reason he didn't take off his shirt until he was in the back room. Then again, it might have something to do with the looks of his neighbors gave him when they saw him washing his clothes, and hanging them out to dry, while only in his trousers.

He snorted, and leaned his head back, basking in the warm rays of light.

That didn't seem to stop him from walking quickly, especially once he reached a path he knew well. He stopped, only for a moment, shoving his boots back on, before hurrying back to his home. It seemed like all the stress melted from his body once the little wooden home came into view. He was glad that no one was around, and planned on collapsing on his favorite metal chair as soon as he got in. He pushed a little bit of his magic in the lock, and heard it click.

That was a little trick he had picked up on from another acquaintance of his. Once in, he placed down his bag, which he had easily gotten back from its hiding spot outside the castle, and moved to a part of the wall over the door. A quick push of his magic, and it opened, revealing a space that was bigger inside than it appeared. He placed his coins, and the few gems he had accidently picked up in the slot, and closed it. No one would be able to find it if he didn't want them to. Even if the knights came and ransacked his home, they wouldn't find anything. His books were locked away in another slot by the fireplace. It wasn't like he had anything of value here either.

That in mind, he pulled one of the thick furs from his bed, and draped it over the cool metal of this favorite chair. He yanked the other from the foot of his bed, and grabbed one of the books from the roaring chimney, before settling in to read for the night.

He did have something he needed to do, but not for a few hours. For now, his time was his, and all he wanted to do was read, learn, and memorize his favorite spells.

He was startled from the light daze of the book by the sound of thundering knocks on his door. It took him a moment to shake off the last of the daze, and put his book up.

He moved towards the door, wondering who could possibly be there at this time? Another thing he had learned was that it was impolite to show up at anyone's home after the sun had started to set.

He opened it slowly, and gripped the furs closer to ward off the chill of the night.

What he was not expecting, was to be promptly shoved to the ground by a rather sour looking knight.

Well, knights, he mentally corrected. There had to be at least twenty knights on his property. He thought back for a second, and tried to figure out why they were there.

"Can I help you?" He asked, keeping his voice polite, and not letting any of his annoyance show on his face from the ground. He stood up, and moved to lean against his door.

"Are you Havard?" The knight asked. Werner raised his eyebrow. That was the name he had chosen to use in this town. Apparently, it was rather common, although he wasn't exactly sure why.

"I am. May I help you?" He asked again. The knight turned from him to the other knights, or maybe they were guards, and addressed them.

"Alright men, you know what we're here for. You three, keep an eye on our host." He pointed to three of the men, seemingly at random. "The rest of you, get in here, and find what we're looking for."

Werner tried not to sputter, but when he was suddenly shoved against a wall, his wall, he was rather annoyed.

"Might I ask what you are looking for?" His voice was still polite, and since his eyes were on the wall, he let them burn with green fire. He was rather pissed.

"Well, mister Havard," the captain addressed him, "It is thought that you are nothing more than a common thief. There have been complaints all through the land of a man who steals from royalty, and every time the guards following him gets close to this area, they suddenly get lost. Any idea why?"

He blinked at that. If there was a spell to keep guards from this town, he hadn't been the one to place it. His magic didn't work like that.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." Werner told the knight. His face was shoved harder against the wall.

It was really starting to annoy him that he had to not fight back, unless he wanted to be ransacked by the idiots.

Then again, from the way they were overturning his table, throwing his blankets on the ground, and basically making a mess of everything in his home, even if he did say something, there wasn't exactly anything else they could do.

"Then, if you don't mind me asking, what is it exactly that you do. Havard?" The guard was tall, broad, and far too cocky. Which was a pity, Werner thought with an inward sigh. The man was the type that he was usually friends with. Even the tone reminded him of something Jarlan would say.

The dark haired knight was far too mocking, and his hazel eyes were lit with a cruel light.

The question was mocking, like they were expecting him to flounder. "I craft metal." He answered, gesturing around him to the metal that basically filled the house. Statues of creatures perfectly polished were lining the fireplace, his utensils were made by hand, plates, bowls, and spoons were metal. Most people used wooden cooking utensils, and he did use a large wooden pot, or other things to actually cook with. Eating on wood? That wasn't very pleasant for him. Maybe it was just because he didn't know how to craft it correctly, but he always ended up getting splinters when he ate from wood.

There were quite a few people who could vouch for his job in the area, and sometimes, the miners brought him chunks of metal straight from the mines for him to craft.

It was nice, being able to use something he had just discovered he could do a few months before to make an honest living. If he were more of an honest man, he would have stopped stealing by now, but he enjoyed the rewards and the act its self too much to stop yet.

The knight raised a dark eyebrow. He knew that the other didn't believe him, but that was okay, he wasn't exactly one hundred percent truthful.

Ten minutes later, his home was a mess, but they didn't find what they were looking for. He was released, and the knights were looking both annoyed, and apologetic.

"Just because we didn't find it this time, doesn't mean we won't find it." The knight warned.

"Can you at least tell me what you're looking for?" He asked, exasperated.

A startled voice caught their attention, and Werner looked towards where his bed room was.

"You need to see this!" A random knight yelled. The leader gave him a smug look. A few minutes later, the man strode out with a look on his face that Werner thought of as a the Cat got the Canary face. It made him think that he had lost, but what, Werner wasn't sure.

Another man came out a few seconds later, holding a delicate silver rose that had been under his pillow between his fingers, but kept it as far from his body as he could.

"How, mister Havard, do you explain this?" The rose was shoved under his nose, and he took in the details. It was something he had been working on for a week, but it wasn't quite done yet, it still needed a good bit more work. The petals drooped, and the stem was crooked, but it still had the potential to be good enough to put out.

"I am aware that it looks bad, but give it a few more days, and it will look a lot better." He said with a shrug.

The guard gave him a smug smirk. "You have been caught planning to kill the All King. You are under arrest."

Werner's eyes opened wider. "Wait, what?"

How could an unfinished project be considered evidence that he was trying to overthrow the government? He didn't even know What the all king was, even if he could guess from the rather obvious name.

The others seemed slightly confused, while the man holding it looked guilty. The leader of the knights just hardened their features.

"Fine, play that game. That," He gestured in the direction of the unfinished rose, "is the symbol of a group that we have been following for a while. This group is trying to kill the All King, and gives its members something like this. At every persons home, that we've arrested thus far, we have found one. It is said that the crooked stem is a symbol of the All King, and they will snap it, to allow a better ruler to come."

Werner knew he looked ridiculous, but could really care at the moment. Here he was, sitting in his home, and reading after a slightly interesting day, and knights come to his home to arrest him, not because he's a thief, or he's killed people, but because they think he's part of some sort of secret organization.

His eyes were wider than they had the right to be, and his expression was probably more honest than it had been in a long time. He had been expecting knights or guards, or whatever this world's equivalent of a police officer to come and get him, but he wasn't expecting it to be for something like this.

So, in his life, he was actually part of a secret organization that shouldn't exist, the Blood on the Blade, but he was getting arrested for being part of another secret organization that was trying to overthrow a monarch.

How was this his life?

"I made that." He admitted, "but not for some secret organization. It just looks good, and I wanted it to go with the rest of my décor. Who are you anyway?"

The captain gave him a weird look. "My name is Mather, I am captain of the Royal Guard of Astren, traitor." The guard, Mather apparently, told him. "Are you telling me that the fact that you have an item that every member of this organization gives out, just happens to be the same thing that you thought would match you're decorations?" The tone was incredulously, but that was alright. He couldn't believe it either.

"How is that my life, right?" Werner agreed, shaking his head sadly.

No one was really sure how to react to that, but then again, Werner himself was still in shock over how screwed up it was.

Werner wasn't sure why, but he had a feeling that if he went with them, he would regret it for the rest of his life. His eyes dulled, as he jumped into his mind to figure out what it was he was feeling, and how to get it to shut up for a while. While he was lost in his mind, one of the guards picked him up, and slung him over his shoulder.

That jolted him out of his mind, he sputtered, and couldn't understand exactly what was going on, and why.

"Where exactly do you think you are taking me?" He asked, trying to keep his voice calm, but it was low and annoyed.

The guard readjusted him, and Werner tried not to pout. It wasn't fair. He had gained weight, which was good, since it meant he didn't look as stick like as he always had, and if he wasn't mistaken, there was the first signs of muscle on his arms, but that didn't mean he was a rather large man.

Some days he wished he could be one of the tall, broad men, maybe even a stereotypical one, but he wasn't. Other days, he was content with his height, weight, and muscles, or lack their of. Today, seemed to be the first, even if it had been the second until he had been picked up like a sack of potatoes without anything but his clothes. His bag, and books, were all in his messy home. He inwardly groaned, it would take forever to get that clean.

One of the guards behind him seemed to notice that he was awake, yes, you idiots, that's usually what it means when someone has their eyes opened. They had the brilliant idea to knock him out.

With a rock to the head.

Weren't they the most intelligent people he ever met?

He stayed awake for the first three hits, before succumbing to his exhaustion, and possibly a concussion.

He half wondered if it was possible to even get a concussion inside a coma, for that was what he had decided this world was.

Yes, in fact, he was almost positive it was.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my dearest readers, 
> 
> As some of you may know, I am posting this from two different sites, Fictionpress.com and Wattpad.com. That, and nothing else, is the reason that this seems so rushed. I haven't gotten around to posting everything on here that I have on the other two, yet, but I will soon. You can either wait patiently for them here, or check me out on the other two sites at @SylvaniusOStephans on wattpad, or Sylvanius O. Stephans on Fictionpress. Either way, I hope you are enjoying Irony of Thieves and Kings!
> 
> ~S.O.Stephans

He was not chained. He refused to admit that he had been chained to something twice in the span of a day. It was insulting, annoying, and would probably give him bruises the size of his hand around his wrist. He was never gladder that he had relatively small hands. He shivered and looked around.

Great, well, his ego was officially squashed for the day. The cell was probably a six by six, if that, and filled with mold. He saw a table out of the corner of his eye, and winced when his brain finally understood what it was he saw. There was something he really didn't want to think about next to him, that kind of looked like medieval torture devices, but covered in blood, and rust.

He wasn't exactly expecting this, to be honest, but he should have been. They thought he was going to try and assassinate the All King.

The cool metal had a bit of a bite to it. This, normally, was a good thing. Blood meant he got a power boost, and it didn't exactly help now.

He tested the chains, and sighed. Oh yeah, this wasn't going to be fun to get out of. He was still exhausted from his earlier adventure, and not really in the mood to escape.

A voice, that sounded a lot like Jarlan, scoffed in his head.

Fine, he just wanted to see who it was that thought kidnapping him was a good idea. So sue him. He could get out at any time, and they didn't know he was anything more than a metal smith.

A thick metal door opened, distracting him from his thoughts.

A man, broad and tall, like most of the idiots he had seen in this world, walked in. His hair was light blonde, and his skin extremely tan, with hints of a sunburn on his nose. The man's eyes were dark, and Werner wondered if most people here were tall, masculine men with dark eyes. Case and point, this man and Jarlan.

The man sent him a smirk, and Werner did his best to clear his features of every emotion.

"And you are?" The man asked. Werner's lips twitched.

"It's only polite to introduce yourself before asking someone there name." He told him.

The man nodded slightly. "You are right. Very well. I am Landric. The pleasure, I am sure, is yours."

Landric. What kind of name was Landric. He wondered how the man spelt that, because if he was right, then there may or may not have been the word DNA backwards in the man's name. He wondered if it was there on purpose, but then again, most things in this world seemed to be.

"Hello Landric." He greeted.

The man raised an eyebrow. "Are you not forgetting something?" Landric asked.

Werner tilted his head. "Oh, sorry, I do that sometimes," He said sheepishly. If he could just keep this man from killing him, it would be worth the disgust he felt using such a stupid tactic. "My name is Havard. Do you know why I'm here?"

He still wasn't sure how a rose, when he hadn't seen a single one in this world, was considered a bad sign, or the sign of a group who wanted to overthrow a king. That was just stupid, now that he thought about it, why would a group that's being hunted down, be giving out roses anyway? Wouldn't it make more sense to ask everyone in that group to destroy the rose they got when they joined, and not give one to any newbie?

Then again, logic and this world seemed to hate each other, so he was sure that there was a perfectly insane explanation as to why they still exist.

God this place made his OCD go crazy.

"No, it is not." The man tisked.

"What do you mean?" Werner asked. Havard was the name he had been using in this world. As far as they should be aware, Havard was a nice man, if a little crazy sometimes. He had been very careful to craft a persona with more than a hint of truth. Havard had a twin brother, and parents who were not there, but killed in a war. His parents were just in the other world. It was easy enough to believe that someone could have lived with the very vague moments that had defined Havard.

Then again, Landric didn't believe him. That just meant that if he was careful, he could give a little more truth and still be considered someone else. For example, he was Havard, so that wasn't a lie, and while it might not be his birth name, it was his given name, in this place at least.

Mixing the truth with a lie was a skill he had to learn in this world. Being truthful with just a sarcastic tone didn't work as well as it should have. Not that he was really good at lying, but for this, he had to hope that his skills were up to par.

"My information tells me that your name is something else. Flower, I believe."

He would have smacked himself upside the head if his arms weren't being held by chains. How was it that the name Erasmus had called him to protect him was something that he could never seem to get rid of. Eugh. Flower my ass, he thought bitterly.

"My name is not Flower." He bit out, venom filled his tone. The next person to call him that was going to be murdered. He didn't care who it was, but he wanted that name to burn. He tried to take a deep breath, and calm himself down, but it wasn't working very well.

"I think I will call you that anyway." Landric told him, tilting his head innocently while his eyes burned in a dark fire.

There was something about this man that honestly was starting to creep him out. It just wasn't right how this man acted, and his eyes. Werner shuddered inwardly. They were just wrong.

"I'd rather you didn't." Werner told him.

"I am aware," Landric said with a small smirk, "but as it turns out, I am the one who gets to choose, not you."

Werner grit his teeth. This man was actually going to drive him insane.

"Let me tell you a story, little Flower, about a great man, the greatest one in the last three thousand years of our existence." The man paused, and Werner was grateful The only person who got away with calling him that was Jarlan, and that was only when they were done with missions, and just joking around.

"This man was a wise man, they say. He was born into a time of chaos and destruction. One of the gods came, and asked him to kill the Forbidden Chaos. Actually, let me go back further than that. Legend says that there was a group who wanted purity. What kind of purity was lost in the years, but they wanted purity. Historians wonder what kind. A blood line? A type of magic? What were they after? No one knows. They found out about seven mysterious creatures that were locked away in another dimension. These people brought them to our world, and they promptly swallowed them alive, absorbing the information, and never letting even a single person live that crossed their paths. Then, about fifty years later, a young man was travelling through a land, and was captured by a cruel king. This man was sentenced to death the next morning. Late that night, one of the Forbidden Chaos attacked the castle, and turned it into little more than ruin. Everyone died, except for the prisoner. Most say he was affected by that attack more than most would ever understand.

"This prisoner was a man who had lived in the shadows for his entire life. This was the first time he was in the light, and he went mad. Some say, a god came down and asked him to destroy the Forbidden Chaos. If he succeeded, then his mind would be fixed, but if not, a terrible fate to relive the day of his greatest failure over and over again awaited him.

"The man first went to the waters, and found the first of the seven waiting for him. They fought for four days, and in the end, there was no way either could kill the other, but that didn't mean that the prisoner was defeated. He trapped the first monster in a volcano. No one knows how he got it there, but somehow, he caught it." Landric sounded captivated by his own voice, and Werner had to admit, it was an interesting story. He would have been content to just hear out the rest of the story, had he not recognized the look of a man lost in his own madness. There was a look of blood lust in his eyes, and Werner wasn't sure how safe it was to be trapped, helpless, in a room with a man who looked like he would happily torture someone like him.

Werner tuned the man out, not listening anymore, and focused on the problem at hand. He wasn't sure who Landric was, probably the man in charge of the guards, or knights or something, but he knew that there wasn't going to be a Forbidden Chaos helping him to escape.

He needed to rely on himself. He could do that. Thanks to the blood running down his wrists, he was easily able to melt the metal into a more workable form. He made them thinner, but larger, so his own small wrists could easily slip out. Once the man had his back to him, he struck.

Werner had been told many times by Botolf to be as graceful as a lion, and as deadly as a viper. He was taking that to heart. A quick chop to the man's temple was enough to knock him out. He watched with satisfaction as the man fell to the ground. He knew he needed to move quickly. He dragged the man over to the table where he had been, and slipped the large hands inside the cuffs. It was easy enough to make them more sturdy and shrink them to fit the mans wrists.

That done, he took his form with a quick illusion, and stole the keys to exit the cell. One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to be going anywhere near here for a long, long time. If he had anything to say about it anyway.

It took him a little while to navigate the castle, but with all the weird looks that he was getting from those in the castle, it wasn't a big surprise that they kept away. He wished he knew who this man was, but he didn't, and probably never would.

That was for the best. He dropped the illusion as soon as he was out. It was uncomfortable for him to say the least.

Then again, it was hardly the most uncomfortable illusion he had ever held.

Speaking of things that were uncomfortable, he headed back towards his home, grimacing the entire way. He didn't want to do what he was about to, but he probably had about a two hour lead on them. That was going to have to be more than enough time. To his surprise, he was nearer than he thought he would be. The castle was near where the village was, and thus, near him.

A few hours later, he had gotten everything he liked about his home, and stuffed it into the bag Erasmus gave him.

Everything from the two furs that he loved, to the quilt on his bed, to the little statues of mythological creatures he had made, to his books. His gems and money were some of the last things he added to the bag. He looked around the empty space with a pang in his heart.

He was not going to be an easy target, and having a home, a predictable place where he would always return made him one. He took a deep breath, and lit the wooden house on fire. He watched it burn for a few minutes, before placing one piece of metal on the ground near where the front door had been. It was a rose on one end, a better one than they had found before, with another flower, a bluebonnet, wrapped around the stem.

It wasn't much, but it was a final screw you to the people who had took away the safety of his home. He wasn't the type to forgive that, or anything else they may have done. But that was alright, even with the heat of the fire on his back, he wouldn't turn around. He would get away.

Hooves thundered in the distance, but he didn't hear them. He was long gone by the time Mather had reached the place where his little shack had once stood proud. He didn't hear Mather curse, or see the look in Landric's eyes. He would have smirked at the man's final words, had he heard them. But he didn't. He never heard the man say anything, but a few miles away, both Werner and Landric whispered the same thing, at the same moment.

"Challenge accepted."

 

 

It had been a few days since he had burned down his home. He had never been sure exactly how he was supposed to live by himself, which was one of the biggest reasons he hadn't left home as soon as he was legally able to. To his surprise, it wasn't that hard. After doing as much traveling as he had, he never wanted to settle down, not again after that last incident. Which was fine with him. Always moving, always hiding, always leaving before he could make any true connections. People weren't safe. He learned that lesson the hard way.

That was one of the biggest reasons he was about to have a heart attack when he woke with a person standing over him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He wheezed, trying to calm his racing heart while telling himself the other was no danger to him.

The man snorted. "Not gonna say hello?"

On a normal day, he would play the game, or say something that actually was slightly cruel, but he was just waking up from the first sleep he had in two days. His brain wasn't exactly working correctly.

"Hello Jarlan." He muttered, leaning back against the tree he had been napping on.

Jarlan looked at him and rolled his eyes. "You're gonna get yourself killed if you sleep here, Werner, ya know that."

He opened one eye to glare at the other. " And you have a better idea?"

Jarlan scratched the back of his head. "Well, no, not really. I just find a place to sleep at night, and hope I wake up."

"Exactly." Werner said dryly. "So shut up."

The other man plopped down next to him, and Werner gave an inward sigh. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep again, any time soon. With an annoyed groan, he sat up.

"You'd better have a good reason for bothering me." He said dryly.

Jarlan gave him an innocent look. For such a large man, he was surprisingly good at it. "What if I just wanted to spend time with you?"

Both men snorted at the same time. This wasn't a pleasure meeting, it was going to be for business.

Jarlan pulled out a rather big sack of coins, and Werner raised an eyebrow. "Damn, what the hell are you wanting me to do?" He asked. While he always had gotten paid before the case, it was never this much.

"Well... Botolf thought you might need the extra motivation." Jarlan explained slowly. Werner raised an eyebrow.

"For what? He usually doesn't care about me turning down a case." Werner wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew it was causing the headache to start growing behind his eyes.

"There's a gem," Jarlan started, "Its large, and extremely well guarded. The problem is, it was stolen by a king, and our client can't prove it, but Botolf, as always doesn't care what it is, as long as we get paid. This," He jingled the sack, "is your half. If, you can get it."

"And what exactly am I getting?"

Jarlan looked uncomfortable for a moment. "It's in a gold box, about a hand in length, and two in width. Inside, you should see... well, a set of ten amulets. You'll know it's that one, when you see one sapphire, one ruby, emerald, and so on. There's apparently some sort of glowing orange gem in the middle one. If," the man rolled his eyes, "the idiots haven't screwed it up already. The man was sure that it would be where it's supposed to be, but that's about it."

Werner considered the sack for a moment. "And who's castle am I breaking into?"

That, he knew, was the one question that Jarlan didn't want to answer. He stayed silent for a second, and Werner scoffed.

"It can't be that bad. It's not like you're going to ask me to break into the All King's treasury." There was a look on the others face, and Werner felt himself pale. "No. Absolutely not. Jarlan! I thought you were trying to keep me alive, not throw me to one of, if not the, most powerful man in the entire freaking world." He shook his head, and scooted away from the other man. He didn't exactly feel like dying yet. He had things to do!

Jarlan gripped the back of his neck. "Oh come on, Little Flower, you've done this hundreds of times."

Werner grit his teeth. "And the only reason I am still able to do this is because I'm not stupid enough to go after the freaking All King. You have heard what they do to the idiots who get captured there, right? Their fingers are cut off, and shoved down their throats! I don't want to eat my hands, you idiot! I need those!"

"Werner!" Jarlan snapped, getting his attention. "Look, if I didn't know you could do this, do you really think I wouldn't have told Botolf where to shove it? I mean, I took you on your first case, what's it been now? Seven months ago? No one knows your skills like I do. I know this is stupid, but this?" He shook the bag again. "This is only a quarter of the money we've been promised. Each. With this, you don't have to live case to case, and you can actually settle somewhere again. You and I can both retire, if we wanted, and only take cases whenever we wanted. Not because we have to in order to live. I know you don't trust easily, but trust me!"

Werner let out a breath. He did, sadly, trust the older man. Jarlan had looked after him when he didn't know any better, and never made him do something he couldn't. Now days, Jarlan hardly ever had to go in with him. Jarlan was more like his handler than his partner now. Because he didn't need to.

He was good enough that his friend, and didn't that feel weird?, didn't need to worry about him anymore.

"How did the amulets get in the All King's treasury anyway?" He asked, trying to calm his racing heart.

Jarlan gave him a look. "You know that we don't ask questions like that."

"Let me get this straight." Werner said slowly. "You want me to break into one of the most secure buildings in the world, with at least five thousand guards posted in the treasury alone, and you don't know why they lost their necklaces."

"Its amulets, little Flower, not necklaces."

Werner rolled his eyes. "Is there a difference?" He asked. "And why can't I just remake them? I mean, I've been attaching gems to metal for a while, so we just buy some string, and I don't have to risk my neck." It was the best of both worlds, but from the look that Jarlan was giving him, he knew it wasn't going to happen.

What did this world have against logic and common sense anyway?

He mentally pouted, but didn't fight. "When?" He asked, exasperated.

Jarlan's face broke out in a small frown. "Tomorrow afternoon."

He choked. "It's going to take at least that long to find it!"

Jarlan looked uncomfortable again. "He wants it in two days, if not, he refuses to pay the rest."

Werner let out a groan. This was a really bad idea. He knew it, and from the look on Jarlan's face, he knew it too. That, sadly, never stopped him.

"Fine. Let me get my stuff together." His voice was resigned, but there was nothing really either he or Jarlan could do. Both men needed the money.

Was it the best reason to steal? No, but alas, there was nothing he could do.

They got up, and Jarlan slung the bag Erasmus gave Werner over his shoulder. Werner shrugged, and put the coins in the bag, deep inside, where the rest of his treasures waited, hidden from the rest of the world.

This was what he was good at. This was what he could do. In this, his OCD was a good thing, and something useful. He took a deep breath, and together with Jarlan he headed towards a place that he had vague memories of passing a few times. He, like most in their profession, avoided the All King, and his castle. It was one of the most guarded places for more than just one reason. Seven thousand guards on duty at all time, four thousand knights in the city at a time, and at least fifty assassins hiding around, ready to kill for their king. That didn't even count the council, the king himself, and the servants.

A few had tried, if only for the glory of saying that they had stolen from the richest person in the world. 

Not many came back.

None of them came back the way they left. Some had gotten lucky, and escaped the dungeons, but never had they actually gotten into the treasury. Those few bore gruesome scars, and their hands were useless. They never lived much longer.

He tried not to flinch as the castle came into view. It wasn't much to look at, just a large, thirty or forty foot wall surrounded by a large city. Jarlan squeezed his shoulder, and moved some of the leaves from his hair.

He tried not to look back once he started a case. It was hard, but he knew if he did, he couldn't be able to do it.

So, with Jarlan outside, watching his stuff, and waiting for him, just in case the plan went sour, he started moving.

He crawled up the wall and tried not to look down. It was steep, but not impossible. Time had given him very useful foot holes, and places to move. He took a deep breath as part of the wall crumbled under his weight, but just swung around to find the new foot hole that he was looking for.

It was a slow journey, and more than once, he thought he was going to fall, but he didn't. This was the first of many challenges that a thief would have to pass in order to even get inside.

An hour and a half later, he was up, having had to duck and hide a few times when the guards got too close. This next part was going to be dusty.

One of the few who survived, for the first week anyway, told of a shaft leading inside. It was a crawl space, but it should be big enough for someone like him to sneak into. These little tunnels led everywhere. The man said he found at least twenty of them, but it was dangerous. Some of them led to the quarters of those who would see thieves dead. Others led down, and suddenly gave out, leaving a person locked in the dungeons. Still others, might cave in and kill him.

Werner had decided when he heard that he would never use them. Then again, he had also said he would never break into the All King's castle. Ever.

So, the idea was that he would use them to get inside, and use his illusions to get further in, and from there, he would avoid them, unless he needed to hide.

He took a deep, silent breath, and coughed into his arm, cursing the dust.

Cobwebs, dust, and probably rats and other creepy crawlies were most likely hiding where he was. He tried not to think about it, and just let himself get lost in the adrenaline rush. It was nice.

Unlike this. He shuddered, feeling something else hit his face. He couldn't use his hands to wipe it off, and bit his lip, dealing with the feeling with a twitch of his eye. It was a tight fit, and having to crawl for ten or fifteen feet at a time, before reaching a space where he could stand for a few feet was driving him nuts. He waited for a moment, as the sound of boots and armor moved next to him. It made sense that the guards would know where these were, but thankfully, they passed by without opening the door.

As much as he wanted to get out here, there was too much traffic for it to be safe.

With a sigh, he got back on the ground, and kept crawling.

He had never been claustrophobic, thankfully, or he would have been freaking out, and went back to murder Jarlan for making him do this in the first place. The dust was starting to irritate his eyes, making them water for a moment, before he blinked it away.

It was time to keep moving, and if Jarlan thought he could find this box, then he would.

He would do this. Nothing was going to stop him, not the cobwebs, not the rats that squeaked as he passed them. Not even the dust.

He had never been so happy to have actually healthy lungs in his life. A thought passed through his mind, and he snorted. He probably looked bizarre. There were probably still leaves in his hair, and he was covered in dust.

Oh well, he was sure he had been in weirder situations, even if he couldn't exactly think of any right now.


	8. Chapter 8

Werner really wasn't sure how he got in situations like this. It really wasn't fair. He had actually made it too the treasury. That was the annoying part. He had been in reaching distance of the gems, and coins, and he just needed to find a box. He searched, moving through the mountains of riches, making as little noise as possible.

It was going perfect. Too perfect. He really should have known something like this was going to happen, but then again, this world killed logic, and logically, they should have found him due to a random event that he had no control over.

As it happened, logic hit. For the first time since he had come to this world, logic actually happened. He had ignored logic, and figured there was something completely illogical that would happen.

The event that ruined his case? He sneezed.

After that, he was surrounded by at least fifty people in less than a minute.

He coughed and spit out blood. They weren't really happy to find him, and made sure to let him know it. Even if their reaction had been hilarious. They had frozen. In place. For almost a full minute.

To be fair, so had he, but by the time that he had gotten his brain back, he only had a couple of seconds to run before the guards decided their brains needed to be kicked back into gear. He grabbed one of the corners, and used it to propel himself forward.

It was useless though, he knew, even as his lungs started to scream at him. In front of him was a group of knights, behind him was a group of really angry guards. He cringed, but only had one option.

They yelled, but he burst through the window, thankful that it was only on the third floor. He turned the fall into a roll, and popped back up. He was sure he would have a few extra bruises, but at this point in time, they would be worth it, as long as he got the hell out of dodge.

The gates were in sight, and both his legs and lungs were burning. If he got out of this mess, he swore to himself he would get in better shape.

The last thing he saw freedom, almost to the gates, when a hit to the back of his head surprised him. It was enough to knock him out.

His body crumbled to the ground.

The chains were being difficult, and not for the first time, he wished that he could pick locks. Then again, he was never any good at learning things that would have been good for his reputation, so he wasn't surprised that he sucked at this too.

His feet were starting to hurt, and he wondered if Jarlan was looking for him yet, heck, he wasn't even sure Jay had realized that the plan went sour. Then again, idiot that he was, Jarlan probably knew exactly what had happened, and was grateful for the distraction. Sometimes, he thought with an inward sigh, he thought he was more of a thief than the other man ever could be.

It took him a few minutes longer than he cared to admit, but less than half an hour later, he was rubbing his wrists, trying to get the circulation back. Stupid chains, he grumbled to himself. He glanced around, and wished he knew why those idiotic knights were so rough with him, not that it mattered. He just had to pick the lock on the door before he could escape. No jewel was worth this.

Before he had a chance to escape, the door opened. Slowly, oh so slowly, the wooden door creaked open. He half realized that the person, king probably, was doing it on purpose. Someone is a bit over dramatic, he thought with a suppressed sigh.

His eyes widened, as did the others, when they saw each other.

Lips twitched, on both, and neither was sure who started it.

"Wer... Werner?" The other stuttered. His eyes moved to the three guards behind the king.

Before he knew what was going on, the twitch in his lips turned into a light chuckle, which, in true Werner fashion, turned loudly into deep, ironic laughter.

Of course it would be him! Of course the only other person from the real world would be him, and he would be a king.

"What are you doing here?" The other asked.

"A better question, my liege, and I can't believe I just called you that, is what in the name of flying butter and orange oceans are *you* doing here?"

"I'm the king." Darius answered, "I'm supposed to be here. You aren't, so you aren't supposed to be here."

He couldn't stop himself from smacking his head against the table he was chained against.

"I'd rather not be in a dungeon." He admitted, rather annoyed. This was hardly the first time he had been caught, thankfully, or he knew he would be freaking out more than was actually allowed.

"What are you doing here?" Darius asked again, caught between walking closer to his brother and slamming the door. The guards looked at each other and seemed to wonder the same thing that Werner was. Did they come in and defend their king, should he need it, or should they leave him alone with the man who looked, at one time, like a mirror of the other?

Werner looked over his brother, noticing that he hadn't seen much sun in a while, and for the first time in their lives, Werner was the tanner one. Huh. His broad shoulders seemed to gain even more mass while he was here, and he still didn't look like a stick. Somehow, Darius, the ass, could pull of being both extremely tan, and extremely pale. His hair was more blonde these days, unlike Werner, whose own locks were darkening to more of a strawberry. 

All in all, the man looked good, better than he ever did.

"I'd guess," Werner bit out, annoyed at the circumstances, "the same thing you are doing here. Trying to live in this...nightmare slash, I don't know, my concussion. How'd you get here anyway?"

Werner could see the looks of shock from his brother at his rambling, but he was too busy freaking out inwardly to really notice his brother.

"You are not my brother," the idiot commanded. Werner rolled his eyes.

"And what makes you say that?" He asked exasperated.

"He doesn't look like that, he's far thinner, his hair is shorter, and his attitude is completely diff-"

"Will you shut up for a second, Darry dear?" Werner snapped. To his great relief, the other did, in fact, go silent.

This should not be possible. His brother should not be *here* of all places. But, he noticed with an inward snort, the irony of the situation wasn't lost on him. Here he was, little more than a thief, living from job to job, and friends with some of the most wanted people in the nation. His brother on the other hand, was in the castle of the All King, dressed as royalty, and perfectly groomed. It was enough to make him wonder if he still had leaves in his hair, and he did still have a lot of the dust he had noticed before.

In short? He was a thief, while his brother was, possibly, the ruler over the entire land. The irony was enough to make him snicker.

Darius looked even more uncomfortable than he had when he walked in. It was funny though. The hero of their story was always Darius, the perfect, while Werner always played the villain. It seemed that being the hero as a child did good things for him. The hero became a King, while the villain became a thief.

"What can I say, Darry dear, this world has been good for both of us." Some more than others, but he wasn't going to admit that, even under pain of death. "Now what?" He asked.

Darius had him literally at his mercy. The man had three other guards in the room, that he could probably take if he really needed to, and hundreds more that were probably a yell away.

The other twin sighed. "Prove it." He said tiredly. Werner looked at him like he had his head screwed on backwards. "Prove that you actually are who you say."

Werner gave him a dry look. "Or," he suggested, half hopeful, half realistic, "we could go our separate ways, and never have to see each other again." It sounded like a good plan to him, but he wasn't stupid enough to believe it would actually happen.

"What are you?" Darius asked suddenly. Their eyes met, and for the first time in years, all he could see was curiosity.

"What do you mean?" Werner asked warily.

Darius took a deep breath, and Werner mentally prepared himself for a speech.

"Well, I am the All King, and since, in this world, twins are considered two beings who share a soul, it only makes sense that you are something special too."

Well, he thought, that didn't take very long. But it did make him feel awful. He wasn't anything special, and the thought of sharing a soul with Darius? That was disturbing beyond belief.

They weren't the same. They weren't even close to being the same. Darius was popular, rich, heck, he wasn't even a king. Darius was the king.

Werner? Werner was a thief. A good one, true, but a thief, who stole from people, and had magic that was not only forbidden, but he far more than the normal illusionist could ever hope to become.

"I'm nothing special." Werner answered, looking the other straight in the eyes. He thought he saw a flash of regret in his brothers eyes, but it was gone before he could fully understand it.

"No," Darius muttered, more to himself, "you are not."

Had anyone been watching both of them, they would have seen both pairs of green eyes darken.

"Hey," Darius whispered suddenly.

Werner smirked, though it was hiding a small smile. "Hey."

"I'm not sorry about that day, you know."

Werner glanced down, and rubbed his wrists again. "I know."

They were both silent for a moment. For the first time in years, they were in the same room without arguing. Neither wanted to be the first to crack with the obvious tension. One of the soldiers sneezed, and just like that, both twins pulled up their masks. Dari became Darius the perfect, while his twin became the problem child they had known.

On Werner's side, it was strange exactly how difficult it was for him to try and fit in a mold he had cast for himself. He wasn't the same person he had been when he had fallen into this world, and he most definitely wasn't the same one who could wear the mask he once spent years perfecting.

Darius spun around, and spoke to the guards. "Get him in chains, clean him up a bit, and leave him here until I figure out what to do with him." And with that, he strode out of the cell.

Werner let out a small, annoyed groan as a vicious smile crossed one of the guards features.

"Well boys, as much fun as that sounds, I'm afraid I need to get out of here. If you will excuse me." He tried to move past the guards, but, as he expected, was quickly surrounded by three large men.

He took a deep breath and tried to bury himself in his mind. This, he knew, was going to suck.

Half an hour later, he was in different clothes, his modesty, if he had any to begin with, was shredded, and being dragged/ carried to a strange room.

A nice room, he noticed as he was being chained to a bed, but not exactly prisoner friendly.

The guards stood inside his door, seemingly having learned their lesson about leaving him alone. They were a bit quicker on the uptake than he thought, he grumbled inwardly.

What was he supposed to do now? Wait for his brother and hope that the guards aren't about to take advantage of his annoyingly bound form?

He huffed to himself. Jarlan would have not only laughed at that, but he would have started to tease him as well.

Sometimes, life just wasn't fair.

As it was, the wait wasn't exactly long. On one hand, that was a good thing, fantastic even. It meant that the guards didn't have a lot of time to... show him their kindness.

On the other hand, seeing Darius once was enough. More than enough even.

Was he still slightly bitter that his twin was the one who got their own army? He was a big enough man to admit that yes, he was. It wasn't right, or kind, but he was more than a bit annoyed.

That slight annoyance turned into full blown irritation when he saw Darius stride into the room like he owned it. He may have owned it, okay, so he did, but that was no reason to make him feel even worse.

"Werner... Salix, why are you here?"

Werner grimaced. He hated that name. "Two things. First, haven't we already had this conversation?"

Darius inclined his head slightly. "And the second?"

"If you call me that again, I won't hesitate to call you Dari." He warned.

Their sister had sucked when it came to actually helping in the outdoor chores. From a young age, he had been interested in plants. One day, when he was four, Ashton had asked him what his favorite plant was. He said the willow tree, and thus Salix was born. It was stupid how such a stupid thing could actually make him feel like he was four, and annoyed that Dari had gotten a special nickname that he didn't. Werner's name wasn't exactly made for nicknames.

Werner Oswald Whiston. The only thing that he thought was his parents had absolutely no originality. Either that, or his sister, who picked his middle name, had a sense of humor that shouldn't have been trusted. Salix was a type of willow. It was better than Oswald. Not now days of course. Dari, Ash, mom, dad, and Salix had all been buried the same day as far as he was concerned.

His eyes widened for a moment, and he wanted to smack himself. Even back then, he was still being called a type of plant. Which, granted, was better than being called little flower, but he still wasn't sure why everyone thought just because he was good with plants meant that he wanted to be called something so stupid.

"That's supposed to scare me?" Darius asked, raising an eyebrow at him, "Please Salix, I'm the All King. It's harder than that to scare me."

"That's new then." Werner couldn't help but mumble.

Darius sat down next to him, and snorted. "Not that new, little brother."

Werner twitched. "Pick a fucking nickname you buffoon. Either stick to one, or don't call me any of them."

"Why? Am I bugging you, Wern?"

Both of them winced. "That was just bad."

Darius laughed. "Agreed. Some names just aren't created to be shortened."

Another raised eyebrow. "That's probably the most intelligent thing I've ever heard you say." Werner had to admit, he was impressed.

That got another laugh out of his brother. "You were the one that said it."

He had said it, hadn't he? Years ago, back when Ashton was still alive. Back when they were still twins.

Werner looked at the cuff on his hand, not really seeing it, but letting a soft smile play on his features. His brother nudged him in the side.

"Hey, Salix, when was the last time we had a conversation that didn't end with one of us wanting to hit the other?" Darius asked, uselessly.

They both knew. It was the night he had gotten sick. The night their sister died. On Werner's part, it was slightly blurred from his fever, and age, but little did he know, Darius remembered every word.

Both boys wished that they could go back. It was impossible, Werner thought with a small frown. It had been years ago, but they couldn't go back. They could only go forward. They could carve out their futures, together, but both knew it wasn't going to happen.

They couldn't get rid of the hurt, and the words that had been said ever since then.

It didn't matter though, he thought, straightening his back. Beside him, it seemed his brother had decided the same thing. It wasn't going to happen.

"I need you to do me a favor." Darius admitted.

Werner resisted the urge to sigh. Two things he had noticed that were starting to make him annoyed. First was that this wasn't Dari, or even Darius, but the ever annoying Darius, the perfect.

His second thought was, of course the only reason the jerk had gotten sappy was because he needed his help.

Jerk.

"I'm not making a promise."

Darius raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't expect you to. I'm not stupid. If anyone has a chance to do this though... Salix could. Salix could figure anything out, given the time, and could have easily become one of the greatest leaders ever seen. Salix is the one I need, Werner, not so much of you."

Werner gave him a hard stare. "Salix was put in the ground the same day that Ashton was."

Both brothers seemed surprised for a moment. Neither had actually said her name in a long time. When referring to her, they said she, or their sister. Never her name.

"Maybe he was." Darius agreed, "But you weren't. Salix had to come from somewhere, right?"

"I don't know about that..." He muttered.

"Salix is needed for that war that we always said he would lead." Darius told him. "He did promise to lead an army for me should I ever need it. And if there's one thing I know about Salix, it's that he never broke a promise."

Werner wanted to shout. Wanted to scream, and throw things straight into the head of the buffoon he was related to.

"That was, what?" He mentally thought back and did the math, "Like twelve years ago! You can't expect me to keep a promise from twelve years ago!"

Darius just watched him. "You're right. I can't expect that of you." He got up, and started towards the door. "Even if Salix would keep his promise, there's no way he could come up with something this important, and not get everyone killed. This isn't a pretend war, after all, or chess, or even your precious flowers. This is our reality. I guess it's better that I leave it to my council."

Werner knew exactly what he was trying to do, but it still worked far too well. He let out a huge sigh. "Let me see."

He didn't see the others victorious smirk, but he didn't need to. He knew he just fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.

Werner ducked his head, and saw through his bangs the gesture for the guards to unlock him.

Darius looked smug, but little did he know, Werner wasn't as easy to be played as he was when nothing more than a child.

Darius wanted him for his ability to plan, and he could be sure it was being used. Even if it wasn't exactly in the way he was expecting.

His brother left the room, and gave the order to follow once they unlocked him. It looked like the last thing they wanted to do, but he was unlocked, and led, shoved forward, into a large room full of people who seemed to be far too fond of sharp, pointy objects.

"Werner, meet my war council. Everyone, this is my twin brother. He's going to be...helping us with our little problem."

None of them protested, although he could tell some of them wanted to. It was a sign of just how desperate they were to solve this problem. Werner's interest peeked a bit, but he shoved it down, and walked to the large wooden table that was full of maps. There were eight pieces on the board. One was them, he guessed, placed in the great city of Astren. He blinked down at it. There were pawns. Actual pawns from a chess board.

Darius looked sheepish for a second, before suppressing it. "Any ideas?" He asked.

It seemed straight forward. There troops needed to be split into seven groups, and each one went after their chosen target. Maybe eighths, since there needed to be someone to protect the city. Another, smaller piece, a coin at that, was waiting in a forest rather near the city. He leaned closer to the table, and once he realized what it was, he snorted, and picked up the coin.

"You don't need to worry about that." He said with a smirk, placing the coin in his pocket. Jarlan wasn't going to do anything to them. Not as long as he was able to get word to the idiot. "Send someone over there, and have them yell that the great metal hasn't burned. He'll know what I mean."

There were a couple of interesting solutions, but since he didn't know what the problems were, how strong they were, how to beat them, he wasn't going to say anything. One of the guards was ordered out of the room to find somewhere near Jarlan, so the idiot wouldn't get any bad ideas.

"What exactly do the pawns stand for?" Werner asked.

"That's not something you need to know." Darius said loudly from his place on a throne in the shadows. Melodramatic much.

"And how, exactly, are you expecting me to come up with a plan to get rid of something that could be as easy as one man to as large as a hundred thousand?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You don't need to know, Salix, just tell us how to divide them."

He let out a small sigh. "One by one seems like the best idea if it's a big problem, send half out and leave half here. If they're smart, they'll send their own half to attack while your weak. If you have half of your army here, you should be able to stop it. I'd start here." He pointed to the pawn near a large body of water. "Whomever controls the water ways, controls the cities that depend on it."

The way they were looking at him was really annoying. He wasn't sure what exactly was surprising about what he said. It was true. Waterways were the thing that every major country fought to control.

Idiots.

"And what makes you think that is the best option? Some of them are clearly closer than others. Most of them are closer than that one."

Werner wasn't sure if correcting them was the best plan, but they had asked his opinion so it was their fault if he said something that they didn't want him to. "That's true," He admitted, "But, what you clearly aren't thinking of, is the farther it is, firstly, the less of a threat is probably there. If an army is spread this thin," He gestured to the map, "then it only makes sense that they would more heavily fortify these three." Three of them, the closest three were pointed at. "Then, their army would probably not have enough people to keep such a thick consistency."

Which was true. Most of the wars he had looked at had put their fire power into the closest enemies, so by the time that the second, or third wave hit, they had already lost most of their forces.

The looks were still stupid. Like they weren't expecting anything from someone that may or may not still have dust on his face.

Darius, on the other hand, looked like the cat that got the canary.

Werner went over and smacked him over the head.

The guards, and everyone else for that matter, seemed to grab their swords, ready to run him through at the command from his brother, but his attention was on Darius, and only Darius.

"What the hell is that look for?" He asked, annoyed.

"What look?" Darius replied innocently.

Werner gave him a dry look. "You know as well as I do that you can't pull that look off, you idiot."

"What happened to buffoon?" Darius asked mockingly.

Werner smacked him again. "I figured you wouldn't want your loyal subjects to hear your nickname, Darry dear."

That got the twitch that he wanted.

"You are an ass, you know that, right?"

It was Werner's turn to look smug. "Only for you, Darry Dearest."

Darius looked like he would like to be the one to run him though, but stayed still, and let out a large breath.

"Stop being an ass for a second. We need Salix's brain, and sadly, you are the only one with even slight access to it."

Werner snorted. "It's not like you're going to fight a dragon or something like that."

Fear crossed his face for a second when no one rebuffed him. "You aren't going to fight a dragon, right?"

Darius tapped the table for a few seconds, but remained annoyingly silent.

"What kind of dragon are we talking about? Like mushu from Mulan, or Chinese dragons?" He really didn't want to know, but at least that explained why his brother looked so stressed.

"More like modern day European dragons." Darius said after a moment of thought.

Werner choked. "You are going to fight a fucking dragon?" He said, unsure if he had heard correctly.

"One about the size of a five or six story hotel at that."

Werner slid into a seat, and banged his head against the table. "Right. Giant dragon in a world that fights still with swords." He muttered under his breath. "Right. I can so handle this. Um, alright. How long is it? Roughly?"

Darius thought for a moment. "You remember those trains in front of the school that pretty much blocked off half the freaking city?"

How could he forget? Those stupid things didn't pass that often, but when they did, it usually took about twenty five minutes to unblock the tracks.

He did some mental math, and groaned loudly. "Fucking hell. Alright. This is doable. I think. Let me think."

He abruptly stood, and paced the long room a few turns, shaking his head occasionally, and muttering under his breath.

Fifteen minutes later, he froze. His eyes were moving rapidly, and everyone was watching him, not that he noticed. He moved against a wall, and slid down it. A few seconds later, he looked up, and his green eyes met with his brothers.

"I think I have an idea." He whispered.

Dari's eyes moved down for a second, before locking with his again.

"You're going to need magic. And lots of it."

The others eyes were suddenly as wide as his own. He went through at least five hundred different ways to do this, but it wasn't going to work.

"What kind of magic?" Darius asked slowly.

Werner took a deep breath, before shaking his head. "There's only a sixty seven percent chance of success," he muttered, more to himself than to the others. It wasn't high, per say, but it was still a chance. He needed the chance, and that was the only plan that wouldn't end up with him looking like he was supposed to be in a Mongolian grill. "But..."

"What Werner?"

"I think... that you can't do it by yourself. Are all of the pawns dragons? Or are some of them...?"

Darius shook his head."You don't want to know that."

Werner nodded his agreement, "No I don't." He ducked his head for a second. "But I don't really have a choice in the matter."

There were mutters around the room, but Werner wasn't paying them any attention. A figure in fully black dropped in the room next to him, only dark eyes showing. The guard that had been looking for Jarlan was back, with someone else.

"Hey." The person knelt next to him. It wasn't Jarlan. From the eyes, this was another person, one he knew very vaguely. This was Rankin.

"Go away, Ran." Werner muttered. This man was not someone that was particularly close to him, or someone that he wanted to witness this.

"Jay sent me." Rankin muttered.

"Jay would kill you for calling him that." Werner snarked weakly. "What are you doing here anyway?"

His hair was run through by a cool hand. "You're losing your touch, flower." was whispered in his ear.

Werner snorted, and clicked his brain back into place. He could freak out later. Much, much, much later. After he convinced his brother that going after a dragon was a really bad idea. "Yeah right. You were following Jarlan. You were the idiot that woke me up, by the way."

He sat up straighter, and rolled his shoulders back. This wasn't impossible. It would just require a different touch. A more... gentle one.

"I need to get out of here. As quickly as possible." He muttered quiet enough so that only Rankin could hear him. Amongst them all, Rankin was known as the distraction specialist, and that was exactly what Werner needed right now. Or, should he say, Rankin's partner, Keenan, was the distraction specialist, Rankin just knew all of his plans.

"Easy and slow, or quick and dramatic?" Rankin asked through the corner of his mouth.

Werner thought for a moment. "I need a few hours to look through their library first."

"So, slow and silent?"

He nodded.

Rankin thought for a minute. "Alright. Tired, and needing some time to think, then sneaking the hell out of here in the middle of the night."

"Who is that?" Darius interrupted.

Rankin gave him a dry look, even if the only thing the other could see was his deep blue green eyes. "Something of a friend of his. And I would ask who you are, but frankly, I couldn't care less if I tried. All I need to know is where you live, and our other friend will take care of the rest."

Werner ignored them for a moment, and let his eyes dull over.

I can do this, he thought to himself. Ideas were racing through his mind. He stood and moved towards the table, an idea forming behind his eyes.

"This is a very, very bad idea." He told them, but grabbed a mostly blank piece of parchment, and grabbed a quill out of the hand of the person closest to him. He pulled a pot of ink near him, and started scribbling down an idea.

It was crazy, and more than a little dangerous, but it was the only one that had a probability to work. Once it was down, he sat back in the chair for a moment. He grabbed the pipe out of the mouth of the man who was sitting next to him, and used it to set the plans on fire.

As long as he knew what was going to happen, it was all that mattered. As they were now, his brother and his army had no way of winning. Without doing some scouting first anyway.

"I need to look something up." He announced, getting up, while the others panicked and were trying to get the fire out. He ignored them, and walked out.

There was a gleam of pride in Rankin's eyes, and he just walked past the guards. They weren't stopping him, and he was sure that they weren't able to understand what was going on. That was good. Chaos was a good thing.

"Don't fucking start doing that again!" Darius shouted suddenly.

"Start what?" He asked, not wanting to stop yet.

"Running away again! You never finish an argument! This is why no one wants you around! I don't know why I thought you would have changed." Darius scoffed. "Go ahead, run away, like the coward you are. I know I'm not going to be the only one celebrating if you happen to run into someone's sword on your way out."

He was angry.

It wasn't burning anger though, it was cold, cruel fury.

Rankin stopped him from moving with a look, but it didn't stop him from locking eyes with his brother.

Dark green eyes met lighter green.

Something weird happened when they did though.

Werner's magic seemed to grab onto something, and he was pulled into someone's mind. Unable to interact, but only to watch.

So, he did.


	9. Chapter 9

Darius ran a hand through his hair as he watched his twin brother storm off. Once again, Werner didn't listen to him, and left before he could get to the point.

It wasn't like he didn't understand why, he had just been told some freaking big news. Which was why he was so annoyed with the younger. He waited a few moments, for his brother to disappear from view, before putting his car in drive.

Werner was going to skip again. Great.

There was a reason that his parents made him take the younger back and forth to school, and it wasn't because it was cheaper. They wanted him to keep an eye on Werner as often as possible. His parents weren't the only people who were afraid that his twin brother would end up either in jail, or running from the law.

He glanced at the seat next to him, and felt guilt for having to say that. Werner made him so angry sometimes. This specific time, it was because Werner had snuck out again and didn't even have the decency to admit that he was either dating someone or needed to meet up with his gang members.

Then again, his brother never admitted anything. He was calm, confident, and collected where Darius was hot headed and missing his brain to mouth filter.

When he brought up the conversation his mother had warned him about, it was honestly out of worry. He wanted to make sure Werner had enough time to actually think of good answers. His mom and he didn't agree with dad's plan, but they did know that something had to be done.

He wasn't sure what his brother was up too, but he really felt like he didn't want to know.

A few minutes later, he parked his car in his usual space, and got out. His friends crowded around him, and he let out the breath he had been holding.

His best friend, and fellow member of the basketball team, Ethan Sanders, slung an arm around his shoulder. "What's wrong D?"

He forced a smile, but as always it didn't work on his friends. "The talk is coming." He muttered. All of them flinched. They knew exactly what that meant.

"Where's your bro?" Ethan asked.

Darius let his head fall forward a bit. "He ran off when I tried to warn him." He answered, still semi annoyed. "He, as always, refused to listen." He sighed again. "Where does he get it from?"

Neither himself, nor his parents were anything like Werner.

To his surprise, Ethan laughed. His blue eyes were shining and he ducked his dark head to try and stop himself.

"Sorry D, it's just, well, he's too stubborn, never listens to anyone, and does whatever he wants, whenever he wants. His brain to mouth filter is probably almost as bad as yours. Doesn't that sound familiar?"Ethan asked, guiding him inside.

They waved off the others, and started moving inside.

"What do you mean?" Darius couldn't help but ask.

Ethan stopped by their lockers, and just watched him for a few seconds. "Bro, you know I'll always be there for you, but sometimes, we complain about you as often as you complain about your baby brother."

Darius' eyes widened a bit. "So what?"

"You hate to admit it, and knowing you, you won't admit it, but he's more like you than either of you seem to realize. Wasn't it you who told us to stop watching his masks, and start watching the mind behind them?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, and gave out a small sigh. "So, you're saying, I should go apologize?"

Ethan snickered again, and didn't even quit when he gave him the most dry look he knew how to give. "It's things like that, see that look, that make people realize you're more than just brothers. The only person besides you who can actually give anyone that look without seeming like an idiot, is Werner. I'd even say he's better at it than you are. Come on, you know as well as I do, he probably will wander back to the school before it starts."

That was true. Werner hardly ever truly skipped. He would somehow end up in first period any way, even if he wasn't going to go. Darius rubbed his chest for a second, and sighed. Instead of going to his first class, he went to Werner's. Ethan waved to him, and walked to their first period alone. His friends had long since learned that anything Darius did with Werner was not something they wanted to be around for. As much as Darius loved his little brother, their fights were epic usually. Loud, usually with something broken.

He sat on his brother's desk, not really wanting to sit in his seat, and just watched the class around him. It wasn't that he didn't know any of them, he knew all of them, but the rest of the school knew better than to interfere with the two.

Sure enough, Werner came in a few minutes later. There was dirt at the bottom cuff of his black pants, and Darius winced, this was pathetic. His brother didn't seem to notice him for the first few seconds, but seemed almost defeated.

Darius saw the exact moment his brother noticed him. Werner's shoulders stiffened, and his entire posture morphed. It was just as impressive as it was disturbing.

"Hey," He whispered softly once his brother got close enough. "I didn't mean to upset you this morning."

His brothers fists clenched at his side, and he tried not to sigh. It seemed he had accidentally trampled on yet another of his brothers issues. Which, he couldn't help but think, was insane, seeing as this had not been an issue just a few days ago.

"Of course you didn't." Venom dripped in his twin brothers voice. He wasn't sure exactly which of the issues he had aggravated, but he knew he had done something. Again. Werner snorted, and Darius was sure his brother had just thought something rather insulting. He ignored it for now.

"What can I do to fix this?" He asked.

His brother's masks lowered for a moment, before slamming back into place.

"You can go back to your own class, Darry dear." His voice was dismissive, as always. That was one of many things that drove Darius nuts. His brother would never actually say anything was wrong, and would never do anything to fix it. Ever.

Werner sat his bag down, and Darius tried not to shake him, knowing that there was no way to make his brother see sense. That didn't stop him from trying. "We should talk about this, Werner." He picked up his own bag, and threw it over his shoulder. He could have sworn he saw his brother looking bitterly at his backpack of all things for a few seconds, before dismissing him completely.

Darius rolled his eyes and tried not to smack him upside the head.

"Oh," He paused. Maybe there was some sense in his brother's head after all. "don't bother waiting for me today."

There went that, he thought annoyed. "Of course not. You know you're going to get in trouble again, right?" He tried not to snort again. "What am I saying, of course you are."

With that, he walked out of the room, trying to keep a slippery grip on his temper. Yelling at Werner would do nothing, accept make him more angry and irrational.

He went to class, his own, and spent the entire first class complaining to Ethan, and the second passing notes. Most people didn't care what he did, as long as he helped the teams reach victory.

That was about the time he heard about Arthur Golding. Golding wasn't the smartest person he had ever met, but he was mean. He thought, stupidly, that he would get Darius's approval by picking on Werner.

Two of his friends decided to show him the… error of his ways. The rest of the baseball team was there too, but Ivan Bradshaw and Brandon Jackson were the ones that took this seriously. The others just kept him from going anywhere, and shoved him away when Golding got too close to them. Ethan was on look out duty, and he leaned against the wall, enjoying the sound of his two friends punishing the bully. No one messed with his brother, ever.

He closed his eyes and wished he could join in, but alas, if he was caught, he would be benched, and both teams had games coming up soon. He couldn't afford to be caught actually getting revenge, but that didn't mean they couldn't.

The jerk was sure to regret treating his brother like that, and would never do it again.

"Darius…" He heard a voice complain. He stiffened, and opened his eyes. His brother was frozen mid step, and looked like he was going to blow up at them. He relaxed for a moment. "Damn it Darius! I wanted to do that!"

He couldn't believe his ears. Werner wasn't the type for physical violence, he usually left that to him. This wasn't the first time Werner had caught him taking care of someone who picked on him, but this time, there was actual anger in his brother's voice.

"You… you did?" He still didn't believe that.

Werner's eyes burned. "Yes, you big lummox! I can't now, though. Thank you ever so much. Darry dear."

One of his teammates decided that talking to his brother when he was already annoyed was a good idea. "You don't look angry."

Darius would have smacked himself if he thought he could get away with it. Werner's fists were balled by his side, he was shaking slightly, and his eyes absolutely blazed. He wasn't angry. He was pissed.

Ivan Bradshaw shoved the idiot. "Shut up! You know who that is, right?"

"Darius' younger brother?" Caleb Jacobs replied stupidly. Darius wanted to groan. That was never a good thing to say to his younger brother. Sure enough, pure fury danced in his brothers eyes, and Darius knew then that this wasn't going to end well, for either of them.

"That's Werner Whiston! The one who stabbed a guy with a pencil for pissing him off until someone had to pull him off! He's the one who is an unofficial member of the Ghostly Knights! You don't piss off Werner Whiston if you want to live!" Ivan hissed.

Darius was slightly surprised to see a look of dark satisfaction cross his brothers face.

"No, you don't want to piss me off." Werner agreed. Darius himself agreed with that. Pissing off his brother always led to… messes. "You wouldn't like me when I am angry. Now, unless you would like to see me angry, I would suggest going back to whatever pitiful lives you lead."

Caleb had no sense of self preservation, at least when it came to the furry or one Werner Whiston. Thankfully, Ivan saw that, and made the idiot shut up.

Werner's burning eyes were focused on him. "But, I was just-" A dark glare made Darius shut up.

"I know what you were trying to do, idiot. Next time, let me get my own damned revenge, alright? Now, if you don't mind, I've got a headache the size of Antarctica, and I just want to sleep for a few hours. Good bye, and goodnight."

Darius felt his own rage building. Werner was, as always, running away when things got difficult. He hated that about his brother. His brain to mouth filter failed for a second.

"You are such a coward, Werner. We both know you wouldn't have done anything to Golding, and you are too weak to actually do something anyway. Just like we both know you're going to go drink, or whatever else you do these days." He was angry. He shouldn't have been, and his team even looked surprised, but Werner turning his back on his problems was something that needed to be addressed. Now.

His brother paused in his steps, and Darius hoped that he would finally grow up enough to actually have a discussion. It faded when Werner just kept walking a few seconds later. His rage grew yet again, and he couldn't stop himself from saying something he had been dying to for years.

"Mom and dad hope you won't come back when you leave." He started, his voice was semi low, and he knew it would rise. He had finally decided to get this off his chest. "They told me a couple of weeks ago that they hope that they would just get the call instead of having to guess with you. You know the one, from the police saying that you're dead. Hell, some days, I hope I'm the one who answers the phone."

Werner just walked ahead.

"I'll see you later, Darry dear." was shot back.

Everyone just watched him, and he slapped his hands against his mouth once Werner was gone. Ethan was his best friend, and when he came over to him, with a look he had never seen, he wasn't expecting the punch to the stomach.

He deserved it though.

"Dude, that was possibly the most jack ass comment I've ever heard you say. I don't care what he did, but he doesn't deserve that. No one does."

Darius laughed bitterly. His grip on his temper was crappy on the better days, and after all the crap from his brother he put up with today, the grip was practically nonexistent.

"I meant it." He told his best friend, feeling horror creep up inside of him. How could he have said that?

"No, you didn't bro. You said something when you were pissed. I'm sure he deserved it."

Darius's eyes snapped to his best friends. He was about to jump on the other and kick his ass, when he saw that satisfied look in the other's eyes.

"No, I didn't." He agreed, sagging against the wall.

A hand came up and smacked him.

"What are you waiting for? Go apologize. The last thing we need is for Her Highness to get even more bitchy. You and I both know that tomorrow is going to suck if you don't."

He couldn't help but agree, and had to fight down a small smile. "Don't call him that, he'd throw a fit if he heard you."

Ethan looked around in exaggerated motions. "I don't see Her Royal High Ass anywhere. Do you?"

He wasn't sure when it started, but Ethan had started calling Werner Her Highness, of all things, and on the rare occasion, some rather insulting variation of it.

He looked at Ethan, then at his bag. "Can you…?" Ethan smirked and held out his hand, rolling his eyes indulgently. "Go bug your bro until he gives in and forgives you."

Darius smiled and rushed down the hallway, hoping to catch up with his brother before he left the school. Once he was out, he wouldn't go home, and that was the only other place he had actually found his brother. He stopped, and looked over his shoulder with pleading eyes.

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Try where his gang hangs, bro. I've seen him by Sam's Corner store a couple of times."

"Thanks!" He threw over his shoulder. As he was expecting, his brother was nowhere to be seen.

Darius hopped in his car, and drove towards a shadier part of town. He shrugged off the black button up he and the other guys were forced to wear, revealing a dark blue wife beater. It showed off his arms, and he loved it.

He got out, and looked for the area he knew was known gang territory. He looked around, hoping to spot his brother.

But no, nothing yet.

He crossed his arms, and locked the door behind him.

His idiot brother should be here, but if he was Werner, where would he be hiding?

A figure in a dark hoodie seemed to rush by him. It took Darius until the other was turning the corner to get a glimpse of strawberry blonde hair.

By the time Darius had gathered his nerves, the other was gone.

"Damn it Werner." He cursed under his breath, jogging towards where he had seen the other disappear from view. It was in between a couple of stores, and sure enough, he thought with disgust.

There was the sound of someone crying in the distance, and his Good boy side wanted him to go see if there was anything he could do.

It didn't sound like screams of pain, or even anything close to it, but he did hear the deep sobs of a sadness so overwhelming that he felt like he was going to suffocate.

"Hey! Whiston!" A voice shouted from behind him.

He stopped and turned around.

"You cocky son of a bitch! What the hell do you think you are doing here?" One of the three men asked, they seemed to come from the shadows.

Darius wasn't sure who these men were, but he was sure that he shouldn't be interacting with them.

"I'm looking for my brother." Darius told them, warily. "I don't guess you guys saw where he went, did you?"

They gave him a weird look, and he played back what the idiots said, thinking he had missed something.

Those asses insulted his mother.

He seethed for a few seconds, before forcing it down. It was not a good idea to insult them, even if he was insulting his mother. For all Darius knew, they could be carrying.

Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if Werner had a gun on him at all times.

"Look, do you know where he is, or don't you?" Darius asked impatiently.

They watched him for a few moments."Why would we care where your brother is? Especially after that mess you made of the last guy that went after him. We aren't stupid Whiston."

Despite what they said, Darius was almost positive they were. After all, they had said utter nonsense.

"Fine, I'll find him myself." Darius turned away, and started towards the woman crying again.

"You can't turn your back on us, Whiston!" One of them yelled.

Darius turned to them, incredulously, "Me? Seriously?"

They were cursing again, but he didn't care. He still had to find his brother.

"Werner Whiston! Get your ass back here!" Darius stopped, and looked around for his brother.

"What are you…?" They had guns. That was obvious. Well, it was more like Darius found out they did because they pulled them out and readied them for fire.

He raised his hands slowly. "Look, guys, there's obviously been some sort of misunderstanding here. I'm not-"

"Going to live to regret coming into our territory. You're right. You won't."

Darius had to admit, even if it was in the privacy of his own brain, that was really clever. Especially for someone who he thought didn't have two brain cells between the three of them.

"I-"

He was cut off with three loud bangs, and felt pain, sharp and hot, around his chest. He raised one hand up, touching his chest, and seeing red on his tanned skin, before his vision grayed out.

He came to a few minutes later, with cool hands running over his burning body.

"Hush, you are going to be fine." A calm voice told him, running something through his body. Another pulse of whatever it was sent him off into a deep sleep.

He woke up in a nice room, but one that looked like it belonged in a medieval castle than the modern world. There were cool grey stones making up the room itself. The bed was soft, but hard at the same time.

There was no one there, and he didn't feel up to moving. His brain was trying to comprehend something that he didn't want to accept.

Someone shot him because they thought he was his brother. That meant someone was out to kill his brother. Someone almost killed him because they thought he was his brother.

Werner got him shot.

He cursed, paused, then cursed again. Werner was a menace to even know. He was a danger to those around him, and everyone around him were always hurt.

For some reason though, he made a silent vow to never tell his brother what happened. He wanted to hurt Werner, but he didn't want to know what this would do to him.


	10. Chapter 10

Werner stumbled back. He hit a hard chest behind him, and Rankin's hand closed over his shoulder. The man's warmth was a huge difference compared to himself. He felt like he was going to freeze to death. He shivered, and the man seemed to have to hold himself back. Normally, Rankin was a red headed demon of sorts. The man wasn’t that much bigger, or broader than Werner himself, but that didn’t seem to stop him from towering over the blonde. 

He looked up, and saw Darius wasn’t in much better of a condition. He was hunched over in his chair, and his eyes looked like they had just seen something that shattered his view of humanity. Werner hoped that it didn’t mean what he thought it might.

"What the… the hell was that?" Darius asked. "What did you do now, Werner?" His voice was angry and accusing. 

He's defensive right now, and scared, his mind noticed. He just breathed while a wave of self hatred and guilt pounded into him. He did deserve it, but needed to shove it away, at least until he got out of here. No breakdowns in front of Darius, he told himself. He was surprised when his eyes met his brothers, and he was able to read the emotion in them.

Darius hated him so much. Werner could see nothing but rage in his brother's expression. It didn’t matter that he hadn't been around when his brother was hurt. It didn’t matter that those three guys were from a rival gang, who kept trying to kill him. It didn’t even matter that they had been utter assholes to practically everyone, or that they were too trigger happy to be good at what they were supposed to do. All that mattered was that they had shot Darius because they thought his twin brother was himself.

"Fuckkk." He drew the word out longer than he should have, but kept it quiet. He had far too much crap to worry about right now. It didn’t matter, though. It had been done, and there was nothing he could do about it, even if he wanted to. 

That didn’t stop the guilt from almost eating him alive. 

Rankin tensed behind him, seemingly able to sense his own unease at this situation.

Darius shot up, and walked over to him. His twin brother yanked him away from Rankin's grip, and shoved him against the hard stone walls. Werner's head hit it hard enough to make his vision go out for a second. 

"What. Did. You. See?" Darius hissed. 

"Nothing!" He grit out. "I didn’t see anything!" He wished he hadn't, but Darius could tell that he wasn’t being truthful. Great timing, he thought sarcastically, as his head banged the wall again.

One of Darius's hands came up and wrapped around his neck. "I'm only asking you one more time. What did you see?"

"What did you see?" Werner shot back. If you don’t want to tell the truth, deflect. That was something he had learned both the hard way, and out of necessity. It only made sense, though, that if Darius was asking him what he saw, that his brother saw something too. And whatever he saw, it was enough to disturb him.

Werner tried to think for a few seconds. What could his brother have seen to freak him out as much as he currently was? He had never seen Darius freak out like this.

Well, that wasn’t true. He had. Once. 

The night that their sister died.

Not that he could talk, he had a very similar look, both that night, and now. His brother just sucked at reading him.

Darius looked haunted, and for a moment, he didn’t need the other to tell him that he was feeling the same way. He finally knew what it was that his brother had seen. 

Werner shook his head for a moment, but he knew that look. It was the same one he had when he thought back to a certain night all those years ago. 

"The graveyard." Werner whispered, his eyes widening. Memories flooded his brain.

"They… you…" Darius seemed lost for a moment. "That wasn’t real." He said, his tone hard with finality.

Werner gave his brother a bitter smile. "I wish it wasn’t." To this day, he still woke up screaming. He unclenched his fists, and could almost feel the dirt under his nails as he tried to claw his way up the muddy walls. It was pathetic, he knew, that he was still scared of that place, even today. He had been nine when it happened.

Darius's grip slacked for a moment, and Werner used the opportunity to duck under his brother's arms. The last thing he wanted to feel right now was someone else holding him down. It didn’t matter that it was only Darius, it didn’t matter that it was almost eight years ago. All that mattered was getting far enough away to breath.

He made it to the door, inwardly praying that no one stopped him.

"You never told me." Darius almost yelled. Why would he though? At the time, he thought Darius knew about it from the beginning. From his reaction, though, it seemed that while he may have had a vague idea about what happened that night, no one told him the details. 

He never thought he'd be able to forgive that, of all things, but he was going to have to learn how to not think about it as often. He still wasn’t sure if could ever go to sleep without fearing that the memories would come to him while he was defenseless. 

Werner squeezed his eyes shut, and focused on his breathing for a moment. Darius didn’t know, he tried to remind himself. He didn’t know. 

But…

"You never asked."

That was true. Darius didn’t ask what had changed that night. His parents didn’t ask what happened. No one ever asked, so why would he actually tell anyone? Darius knew how he had always been. He wasn’t one to share things, with anyone, unless they asked. Then, usually, he would tell them what they wanted to know. 

"I…" Darius let out a long sigh. "I didn’t, did I?"

"No, you didn’t." That was fine though, he didn’t need to talk to anyone about that. In fact, the less he thought about it, the better his life would be.

"Running isn't going to do anything Werner." Darius told him. 

He turned on his heel, ready to yell, but it faded as soon as his eyes met his brothers again. "And you wouldn’t have?" He asked, bitterly. Of course he wouldn’t have. Darius the perfect was the epitome of mental health. He was everything that Werner wasn’t. Of course Darius would have said something. That was the normal, healthy thing to do.

To his surprise, Darius snorted. "I would have hidden under my bed for weeks, before getting those asses expelled."

Werner raised an eyebrow. "And ruined the future of three high school juniors, and eight kids under the age of eleven? No way."

Darius gave him a weird look. "So? They dropped you in an open grave, started to pour dirt over your head, and left you there all night, when it was raining."

He squeezed his eyes shut. The memories tried to pass behind his eyes, but he forced them away. "I was there, thank you, I don’t need commentary. Not now, and not then."

"I don’t like it, Werner. They should have been arrested, at the least!"

That did it. Werner's eyes burned in a deadly rage. "You are not me! My choices have been made, and I've learned to live with them. At least I can take responsibility for when something goes wrong! Unlike a certain someone. You tried to follow me, after telling me you wanted me dead, and got in trouble, and yet you've been blaming it on me! I wasn’t there, you ass! I wasn’t the one stupid enough to talk to fucking strangers when they have fucking guns! I mean, seriously, could you be any fucking stupider?"

"I don’t take responsibility? I don’t?" Darius shouted back. 

"You never have! You fail an assignment, and blame it on me! You skin your fucking knee, and it's my fault! I'm not even there a quarter of the time, you buffoon!"

One of the men drew a sword, and Werner's attention was dragged back to the fact that they weren't alone, blowing up at each other as they always were. 

"You can't threaten the All King! Or call him that!" The man shouted. Werner didn’t notice anything about the man, besides he apparently had guts to get between them.

"Shut up!" Werner and Darius snapped at the same time, before turning their glares on each other once more.

"What? You're copying me now? How mature." Great, Werner noticed, annoyed, they were in synch again. Everything he said, his brother happened to say at the same time. It had happened on a few, rather memorable occasions, but this wasn’t the time for it.

Werner let his head fall forward, and closed off his mind, emptying it for the first time in months. He just let the world run around him, but it was the only way he knew to break the stupid synch. 

After a few moments, he couldn't keep them out any longer, and let them flood his brain. He let out a pained sigh, at the same moment Darius let out a relieved one.

"Thanks." Darius muttered from across the room. 

"Welcome." Werner responded. It was weird when they went into synch, because Darius' mind couldn't handle Werner's, and he didn’t understand what went through his brothers head. 

A cough broke their thoughts, and both seemed to snap out of it at the same time. Werner rolled his eyes, and Darius brought a hand up to cup his chin, a bad habit that only those who actually knew him, realized that it meant he was annoyed with the circumstances, and not the people around him. 

"Right. Since neither of us is going anywhere for a while, introductions are in order. By the end, I need you to have a basic plan to beat these things ready to be modified. Got it?" 

For once, the twins were on the same page, as random as it seemed to the others. Darius needed to know that his people would be safe, and thus, he wanted to guide the topic back to the reason Werner was allowed in here. 

"Hey little Flower?" Rankin muttered in his ear, "Two things, first, do you still need the distraction, or are you wanting to see where this goes? And second, why does the all king look like you?"

How rude of him, he thought to himself. "That's my brother, Darius." He muttered back.

"Older twin brother." Darius shot from across the room, smirking at the annoyed look his brother was giving him. "Now, sit down, and shut up. Quindlen, you first."

Quindlen was an older man, probably in his forties, who seemed more annoyed with his king than anything. Werner made a mental note to keep an eye on the white haired man. 

"Quindlen, first advisor to the All King before my lord, and one of the War council." 

Next, Saturnin, a large, bulky man, who was actually shorter than Werner was, with grey hair and dark eyes that seemed amused by the situation. This man said he was the captain of internal defense. Werner had to hide a smile. The man needed to work a little harder. Getting in, while difficult, wasn’t impossible.

Enoch was next, yet another old man with a bad temper. Next to him was Bromley, a young, late twenties man who was clearly in over his head, Ingvar, who was probably around the same age, but his eyes showed a maturity that the other clearly didn’t, Kalil, who was probably the youngest here, but was probably the most open minded, Ellard. 

When the table got to Werner, he said his name, more out of amusement. It was funny to watch them twitch when he said his full name. Clearly, they knew his last name, the same name that Darius had. It was mean, true, but oh so amusing to watch. 

Rankin just stayed silent. He was normally a funny guy, but he was still in his gear, so he was just trying to be the strong, silent type. It was really, really funny watching them stutter that he shouldn’t be in the room. Since neither he nor Darius seemed to have a problem with it, Rankin stayed. 

Once they were done, Darius turned to Werner and raised an eyebrow. "This is going to suck, you know that right? Why can't you just leave them alone? You know, so you won't wipe out at least three quarters of your troops. At least."

As always, Darius seemed to think he knew best, and just gave him a look. The next hour was spent making a plan out of thin air that maybe, kind of, just might, kill their opponent. The stakes were higher than Werner preferred to play, but that didn’t seem to be a problem.

"Hey Werner?" Darius asked, once they were on a break, each discussing what they thought would be a good way to solve a problem they had found in the plan. Werner had found eight ways around it, but hadn't said anything, just in case there was someone who could come up with something better than he could.

"Yeah?" 

"Think Ashton would be proud of us for this?" 

That made him freeze. Neither of them spoke of their sister. He was about to snap, but his brother seemed actually curious. 

He deflated. 

"She'd be telling us we're suicidal for attempting this. Then, she'd lock us up to keep us away, while she goes to play hero." He answered honestly. 

Both brothers seemed to chuckle. That was exactly what she would do. They both knew it, and they were both alright with it. 

Ashton was the type of person to drug someone to keep them from getting hurt. 

"Probably. We're going to die, aren't we?" 

Werner swallowed roughly, his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "We'll see." Darius would be fine, even if Werner had to take a page from their sister and drug him, throw him in his own dungeon, and lock the keys away.

Darius gave him a harsh look. "I know that look." He warned. "Don’t even think about it." 

Werner hummed under his breath, and moved back to the maps he had been studying. Darius jabbed him in the side. 

"I'm serious, Werner. This isn't like when we were younger and lying to mom or Ashton about who tracked the mud inside over mom's very expensive new jacket." 

"Don’t worry about it. I'm not going to do anything impulsive." He dismissed with a wave of his hand. To his surprise, he was shoved. The chair fell to the ground, and he banged his head on the stone floor. Once his vision had gotten back to normal, which took a few seconds, he looked at Darius, and sighed inwardly. Well, he thought, here we go again. It was nice while it lasted. 

"Everything you do is impulsive!" 

Werner raised his eyebrow, but turned to Rankin, who was offering him a hand up, which he took, inwardly, he was annoyed. More than that, he was getting tired, really, really tired of fighting the same fights. He had obviously accidently found some sore spot of his brother, and trampled it. 

It wasn’t like he was expecting to leave the room on good terms with his brother, but he had a small bit of hope that he hadn't managed to squash. 

He tried to keep his voice calm, hoping that it would make his brother realize that this wasn’t the time or place for yet another argument. Hadn't they already embarrassed themselves enough in front of these people? 

"What are you talking about now?" 

To his annoyance, it didn’t calm the other down, it just made Darius even more upset. 

"You always do this!" Darius shouted at him. Even those he didn’t really remember the names of looked almost as exasperated as he felt, and they had only heard one argument between the two. Well, now, they were going to hear a second, if he couldn't get his brother to calm down.

Darius was still yelling, but Rankin got closer. "What's he yelling about?" the other asked him. Werner wanted to shrug, but didn’t. He was too busy, once again, taking everything that his brother threw at him.

"Impulsiveness." He finally managed to get out. 

"But, you don’t really…" Rankin wasn’t on his side for this argument, the other often told him how his impulsiveness would get him into serious trouble, and no one would be there to save him.

Werner tuned them both out, trying to solve the problem they had come across with the fewest deaths resulting as possible. That was, until he accidently tuned back in. 

"…it's not like you have anyone here to miss you if you get yourself killed! And for what? A thrill? Money? What made you think that stealing was a good idea? What made you think that there was a good enough reason to steal from someone, especially when I know you've heard about what can happen to those stupid enough to break in here in the first place! Do you like having people trying to kill you? Is it the thrill? Is it because you have absolutely no morals at all? God! You have no idea how much I wish it was you in that damn car that night, and not her. At least she wouldn’t have fucked up as much as you have." Darius scoffed, and turned from him. Which was probably a good thing. Werner wasn’t exactly in the most rational mind at the moment.

He was pissed. Doing this because it’s a thrill? Did Darius really think that he didn’t already have enough people trying to kill him in the other world? Was the other already forgetting that his life had always been threatened? He wanted to know? Darius really wanted to know what it was like? Well? Fine, he would tell him. 

Werner opened his mouth, and just told the other what he thought. He got closer to his brother, who seemed to be frozen. 

"Do you want to know what it's like to have to steal?" Werner hissed in Darius' ear. "Let me tell you. First, you think it's a bad idea. You aren't sure how you got dragged into it, but you know better than to say anything when the person with you, making you steal can easily snap your neck. I did it because I was going to die of starvation, and needed some sort of help. Not that anyone would have helped me, so I did it myself. Actually, if you really want to know the truth, I was forced into it the first time. So, first comes the uncertainty. Then comes the panic. The I can't do this, you think, I'm going to be killed. You get over that once you're inside. Not that you have a choice in the matter. You have to, or you die. Your blood pulses loudly through your body, and you hope no one else can hear it. With each of the guards you pass, your heart starts to beat louder. You seem to lose yourself in the moment, where you can hear everything from the guards own breathing, to a bug off in the other room. You have to slow down your breathing, which goes against every instinct in your body. If you've scouted well, you know where everyone hides, and have probably found a few places that you can slink off to, should you need them. You know how many people can find you, and what you have to do. By this point, the fear is overwhelming, and the adrenaline is rushing through your system. You're both terrified, and calm. Should you screw up, you could die, here. Once you make it into the room, you want to zoom in to your target, but that's a deadly mistake most don't live to regret. You have to be more careful than you were the entire time you were breaking in. Most die because they can't focus on the world around them when their bodies, the thing that's supposed to protect them, seem to focus only on their prize. Most people ignore everything else once they've caught sight of what they want. Most people end up either dead, or wishing for it while they are tortured in a dark, damp dungeon. When you wrap your hands around your target, you feel elation, relief, it's almost over. Now all you have to do is get out. People say it's harder to get out then in. If you prepare well, that's not true. You already know exactly where your exit is, and what you need to do to reach it. If you don't, well that's a different story. Your body wants to relax, but if it does, you're dead. So, you fight off the crash, with everything you can, and try your best to get out of the danger you put yourself through. If you get out alive, you have to deal with a sudden rush of self disgust. Mine took me out for almost a week." He stopped, and locked his eyes with Darius. 

"Does that sound like fun, Darry dear?" He asked. "Does the fact that I was lucky that Jay was with me, to keep me from slitting my own throat, while self disgust at what you've done , rage at the unfairness of having to do it, battles the feeling of satisfaction that, hey, I can do this, I'm good at it, and the elation of finally feeling alive for the first time since you can remember." 

Werner was breathing hard by this point, and the others just watched. No one interfered. Werner deserved to finally say his piece, to finally force his brother to understand. 

“Now tell me, why would I, of all people, need something like that on top of on top of everything else? The last fucking thing I need to deal with is even more fucking guilt on top of the everyday guilt I have thanks to, oh, who was it, right, you.” 

Everything was silent for a moment. 

"You always blame everything on me, Darius, but I? I never blame you for anything. When I leave here, you know what will happen? I won't be upset that you insulted me, again, or that I probably have a minor concussion that’s quickly approaching a mild one. I won't even be mad that the only reason I know you haven't killed me is because you need me for a fucking suicidal plan. No, the only person I'm going to be mad at, is me. I'm going to be pissed I told you everything I have, even if it's actually not that much, or that bad. I'm going to probably be fighting back nightmares of the graveyard, and other memories you oh so kindly brought up for me. Thanks for that. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get the hell out of here before I decide to find a way to blow up this entire place. Don’t think I can't make an explosion if I need to."  
And with that, he slid the door closed.

Rankin joined him in the halls a moment later. "You still need the library?" 

"Forbiddens yes." He mumbled. He needed to see if there was anything that might actually help him prepare for this… thing that was coming.

"I saw it, I think, on my way in." Rankin told him, putting a hand on his shoulder and guiding him in the direction that it should be. 

They stayed quiet as they walked, and the only thing he knew was that talking was a bad idea. When the doors to the library opened, he refused to focus on the room, or on the sheer amount of books. He reached out a hand, and muttered a spell, bringing him a stack of six books, that he could carry out of the castle. Was it stealing? Yes, but he needed information that he couldn't get on his own. If his brother was coming to him for something, he knew it had to be big. Bigger than anything he ever could imagine. Now if only he knew what it was . 

Which was why he needed the books. The spell was one of the very few he knew that wasn’t classified under illusion magic. It was technically considered elemental, but that was only because it was said to use both the mind and the wind to get whatever the caster asked for. 

They passed the treasury, and he saw the longing look that Rankin was sending it. He sighed, and gave in. As long as he got what he needed, the money could be used to get a few of them out of the game. Which was something Rankin, his partner Keenan, and Jarlan all wanted. They were all tired of this game, and took cases out of necessity, not out of greed. 

The piles seemed duller than before, but maybe that was because he was a bit duller. He just wanted to rest, and knew that the stupid box had to be obtained before he could go. 

Sure enough, they left it exactly where he had, and it was easy enough to scoop up and tuck under his arm. 

He passed the books over to Rankin, and lifted an eyebrow when the other seemed to stumble under their weight. They weren't exactly light, but they shouldn’t be enough for someone of the others bulk and size to almost fall over with. Rankin regained his balance, and glared at Werner, expecting to see him snickering or smirking. 

Heck, he was expecting to be snickering or smirking, but he wasn’t. He didn’t think he would be able to act normally for a while, at least until he had properly buried the thoughts of the memories back where they belonged. He shuddered, and Rankin gave him a sideways look. Yeah, he wouldn’t be able to use that word for a while without feeling the dirt in his hair, and hearing the boys start to screech when the storm hit.

The trip outside was extremely quiet, and rather boring. No one seemed to know what to do about them, and the few that had decided to roam the halls near them, shut up as soon as they got near. They weren't even chased. 

He could see the annoyance on Rankin's features, even if they were fully hidden. The chase was part of the fun, and while it was nice to be good enough that they didn’t know you were there, this was a completely different story. This was they knew he was there, they saw the box and the books, but did absolutely nothing. Probably because they thought Darius had given them to him, he thought, semi bitterly. All hail the All Jerk.

Werner snorted, and tried to occupy his mind with something, anything, that could actually keep his attention.

"I'm guessing that you don’t want me to say anything to Jarlan, right?" Rankin asked under his breath as the gates came into view. "About any of it?"

"That would be great. Thanks." Werner muttered back. Jarlan may have been the closest thing he had to a friend in this world, but that didn’t mean he needed to know about Darius, hell, Werner didn’t even want to know about Darius, so why would anyone else?  
 


	11. Chapter 11

The sun had set under the horizon, while they were inside. Not that it was a surprise, he thought, sarcastically, they had been gone for hours. Hell, he had been gone for hours.

"Are you alright?" Jarlan asked, his voice thick with panic. "I would've gone in, but Rankin's the only one with a full face mask, and I thought the last thing any of us needed was have to break someone out of the dungeons."

"I'm fine." Werner mumbled, paying attention to the ground. He needed to run, or at least get as far away from this place as was humanly possible. Since they had managed to leave the castle, he had gotten more and more tense. He knew his brother too well, and knew that if Darius was in a mood, he would put out a hunt for his head. If that happened, he wanted to be as far away from here as was humanly possible.

Jarlan stared at his side, and Werner's eyes moved too. The box. Jarlan was looking at the box with awe.

"You got it." Jarlan breathed.

Werner laughed darkly. "Yeah. I got it." And with that, he held it out. Jarlan took it with shaking hands. As soon as his hands were free, he started moving again. He snatched his bag from where it was placed on the ground, and put the books in, after mumbling thanks to Rankin, not paying any attention to anything. There was a heavy need to get away that was starting to consume him, and he pushed it down with everything he had. He needed to make sure everything here was as it needed to be. Once it was, he soothed, he could leave.

"You good?" He asked the two. Both seemed confused, but nodded.

"We're fine, we weren't the ones who... well... yeah" Rankin finished awkwardly.

Jarlan was giving him a weird look.

"What do you need, Werner?" He asked.

He needed to get away. Needed to be able to think again, and until he was able to get out of here, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. The thoughts seemed heavier, but he outwardly didn't react. From the look Jarlan was giving him, he wasn't doing a very good job of it. "I... I need to go."

Jarlan was about to protest, but Werner wasn't sure how he could face anyone right now, especially Jarlan of all people. Jarlan had lived a difficult life, but he was extremely sheltered in a way. He knew the world was covered in evil, and that what they did was considered a bad thing, but he had yet to see the absolute horrors that people could inflict on each other. Jarlan seemed to recognize it, and stopped himself.

"Go ahead, little flower. We'll catch up." Jarlan finally agreed.

He shook his head. "No, I just... I need to be alone for a while."

Werner honestly didn't want to think about what his friend would say if he found out half of the things he had been thinking, or for that matter, the things he had done.

It wasn't a good thing, but nothing left in this world, in his world, was good. Humans, by nature, were not particularly a nice species, then again, there was no species in this world that was good, and pure. If there was, at one time, humans had probably contaminated them, just like he would contaminate Jarlan. He wished he could destroy the part that had seen, and done, the things he had, but it wasn't possible. So, he would ignore it, ignore them, and hope he could get away before he ruined them like he himself was ruined.

So, he did the only thing he could, and disappeared into the night, like a common thief. At least that part, he snorted to himself, he couldn't screw up.

For the next few days, he didn't allow himself to stop. He didn't rest and sleep, he didn't stop at all, unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it. He ate while moving, and only because he knew he would pass out if he didn't. He tried to get as far from that place as was humanly possible.

That was when he made it to the seas.

It was a beautiful sight, even if he couldn't see much while the rain stung his skin and the winds battered his body. It was hard to stay still, but it was something that he didn't mind. If he moved with the wind, he didn't have to do it himself.

The waves and waters were chaotic, and the winds had picked up. He sat down, finally, on the soaked sand, and just watched the storm move around him. It was nice and cool, which felt great on his overheated skin.

His mind seemed to slow down as the winds picked up. He knew that staying here for much longer was dangerous, but he couldn't make himself want to leave. This was the quietest his mind had been since the day in the castle. He was thankful for the silence, and just focused on feeling the sharp pricks as the rain hit his bare face.

His eyes took in the beauty of the storm, and the wildness of not only the sea, but of the sky. He took a deep breath, and just seemed to lose all of his strength. He laid down, moving a hand to keep water from his nose and mouth, and just watched.

There was a loud roaring sound in the distance that disturbed his tranquility. He hated it when his tranquility was disturbed. His eyes tried to see through the pouring rain in the direction, but all he could make out was a flash of orange, maybe a red gold?, slowly rising from the ocean.

Damn, he thought to himself, this world has huge goldfish. After a moment, it was up in the clouds, and the storm seemed to lighten up a bit. He shrugged, and closed his eyes, it didn't matter anymore.

Nothing seemed to.

There was a muffled thump from around him, but he didn't open his eyes. He was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to finally sink into sweet oblivion. When the air turned humid, however, he knew that he needed to get out of the rain before he got sick. He sat up on shaking arms, and rubbed his eyes, still feeling the rain pelting his skin.

This was different though, this felt more like a warm shower than being stabbed by thousands of little needles all over his body. It was pleasant. Too pleasant in fact.

He had learned lots of things through his life. One of the most important lessons he had learned was that if something felt good, it was probably as bad as it was going to get. He slowly opened his eyes, and was greeted by a large black thing. He caught his appearance in it, and watched as the center of it seemed to constrict.

His heart sped up.

He tried not to jump as large black eyes, as he finally noticed, almost half his height, were less than a foot away. The storm kept raging, he knew that, but for some reason, he just felt warmth on his skin, and not the sharp daggers of the icy cold winds. He tried not to think about exactly why he was so warm.

If he had his way, this would be nothing other than a delusion that his exhausted mind had conjured. He was never so lucky.

"Well, well, what have we here?" The beast asked him slyly. It looked like it was from a fairy tale, huge, and the European style, not Asian. The large belly was probably bigger than any house he had ever seen, and its head, which seemed content to watch him for the moment, was probably the size of a large truck, if not closer to the size of an eighteen wheeler. "A little mage just the right size for a snack." It could eat him in a bite, he couldn't help but notice. There had to be at least three layers of large, sharp teeth that he could see.

He wondered if that made it difficult to get its food out of its teeth. Probably, he answered himself. He was sure that bits and pieces of himself would probably be caught for years if it decided to turn him into a snack.

He needed out of this situation. He needed to get away.

He felt really stupid for a moment, thinking that his plans would be useless if all of the dragons were about the same size as this one. That was, if they were all dragons. Somehow, he doubted it, and was almost positive that the only reason he knew that much was because he guessed. He stopped after the dragon, and didn't really think to ask if they were all the same things.

"B...b...big." he stuttered out, feeling his heart beat roughly in his chest. He felt stupid, but then again, what else was someone supposed to say to a dragon?

The dragon gave a deadly chuckle, making him shiver in a feeling he had not felt in years. He wished it was because if the cold, but wasn't stupid enough to think it was. He felt fear. For the first time in years, there was no way to escape, no way to live. His continued existence depended on this creature deciding it wanted a meal, not a snack.

"Yesss." It agreed. "I am."

As a child, he had always loved dragons, and if they were real, he would have gotten one. Looking at the beast in front of him, all fiery red, gold, and bronze with eyes darker than any moonless night he had ever seen, he regretted it. Dragons were huge, and wanted to eat him. Maybe he would find something smaller, like a pixie. Those were small enough to not be able to eat him.

"While you were trying to sort out your issues from your mind, I waited, watched, growing bigger every day." It lifted a huge bolder in its deadly grip, and Werner watched in horror as it was crushed into dust, which was blown on him. It stuck to him like a second skin, and he coughed.

Oh, the dragon said he had issues? He was in front of a dragon that seemed to be, he couldn't believe he was thinking this, teasing him. That shouldn't have been possible. None of this should be possible.

You're in a world where you can cast illusions, he reminded himself, a dragon shouldn't have been out of the realm of possibility.

Had he not already been sitting in the rain for some time, it would have been rather easy to get off. Now? It was going to take forever.

"You certainly are...large." Werner agreed, feeling his instincts suddenly wish they could smack him. He was supposed to run from the dragon that wanted to use him as a toothpick, not talk to it.

"Tell me, oh so tiny flower, have you finally sorted the issues you have been struggling with since the day you first saw my majesty?"

He wasn't sure whether to be insulted by an all powerful dragon saying he had issues, confused as to what it was talking about, or ticked off that yet another thing in this damned world was comparing him to a flower. Probably a mix of the second and the third if he thought about it.

The dragon blew a ring of smoke around him, and he tried not to cough again. It looked amused, and its pupils dilated again.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He managed finally. His voice was a little shaky, but he figured no one would be able to fault him for it.

It laughed, loudly, throwing its head back, revealing a large, thick neck that was thicker than any tree trunk he had ever seen in his life. It seemed to glow with gold, and he hoped that didn't mean what it did in the movies. If it did, he was going to be nothing more than a pile of ashes on the beach.

"How delicious." It purred, " you don't even know yet. Well, well, little mage, I think I might just let you live for now. Until you come after me and my brethren, you shall be safe." It gave him a twisted, sick smirk, before continuing, "or at least, safe from me. I make no promises about the others. They hunger for revenge more than even I."

Something else wanted revenge against him? What had he done this time? He wasn't stupid enough to steal from a dragon, or anything other than stupid kings with far too lax defenses, and he hadn't really talked to anyone outside the guild. He could have sworn he heard someone sigh. If anyone else had been around, he was sure he knew what they would be saying to him. What have you done now?

Which, he noticed, annoyed, was a completely legitimate question for those who actually knew him. He had a bad habit of being able to annoy people without meaning too.

Its powerful wings decided that this was the time they wanted to move, and Werner was thrown back, his shoulder hitting a tree, that was at the edge of the beach, and he hissed in pain. The dragon seemed amused, and threw one last piece of advice in his direction.

"Sort your issues before we meet again. I would hate to have to kill you before they had been worked out." He wasn't really sure what to make of it, but he did know that he did need to come up with a way to keep his brother from being killed by that thing when he made it mad.

He walked away, shaking due to both the cold, which seemed to drape over him yet again, and fear. He couldn't let anyone else go after that thing. They would die. Even if his brothers entire army fought it, most would die, if not all of them. From the looks of it, he assumed it could breath fire. If that was the case, all armor could be melted, and useless.

He may have been a monster, as he had acknowledged so long ago, but Darius was a hero. He would go with the army, and die just like the others. He needed to find a way to stop all of those deaths. He wasn't sure how to, but he would prevent his brother from dying a hero's death.

He silently vowed to himself that if there was no other way, he would go himself. Either he would stop his brother, or he would kill the beasts, and probably die trying.

Luckily, Werner had something that most other people seemed to lack. He had the ability to strategize. His brain was his best weapon, and he knew exactly how to use it.

Werner!" A voice shouted from behind him. His head was heavy, but he turned it, just enough so he could see Rankin and Jarlan from the corner of his eye. He didn't care.

Until he actually got a look at the two. They looked awful. Rankin's bright red hair was showing, twisted and messier than he normally allowed it. Jarlan was covered in dirt, much like himself. Both of them looked exhausted, but relieved.

"Oh, thank the afterlife! Jarlan thought you might try and get into the water with this storm and be washed away." Rankin laughed. He pouted inwardly. He may have been small, but he wasn't that small. Jerks.

Werner walked over to them, and chuckled a bit, ignoring the twinge in his back. From the looks of it, and how they were acting, they hadn't seen the dragon. Good, he thought, they don't need to see something like that. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Jarlan rubbed at the back of his neck. "Anyone would've thought you were trying to die from the way you looked when you got out of there. And someone," He gave a pointed look to Rankin, who was doing his best to look anywhere else, before continuing. "Refuses to tell me about anything that happened. We could have caught up with you yesterday, had you actually been human and decided to fucking sleep for once in your miserable life. I mean, why can't you actually remember that your body needs actual food and sleep to survive?"

Werner gave him a dry look. "You of all people know perfectly well why I don't sleep, ass. I just wanted to go for a walk. You didn't have to follow me."

Both men turned to him, and laughed. "Of course we did, little flower. You don't know how to take care of yourself." Jarlan told him. Rankin nodded his agreement.

"You look like you're going to fall over, and you've only been alone for three days. Have you actually eaten anything since the castle?" Rankin asked.

Werner tried not to look too sheepish. He had remembered to eat. Once. They didn't need to know that though. He tried to find another topic to focus on.

"Shouldn't you be giving the box of jewelry to the buyer?" He asked. The looks were indulgent, which normally, would piss him off. Today? He didn't even care. His life made absolutely no sense anymore.

"Don't worry, Keenan took care of that, he was waiting with Jay." Huh, Werner tried to think back, but he hadn't seen the dark haired man. Not that it was a surprise. Where Rankin went, Keenan followed. If one were to compare the four of them, Rankin would be Keenan's Werner, while Jarlan and Keenan were the protectors, of a kind. They did it in different ways though. Keenan specialized in elemental magic, and had been the one to teach him the spell he had used in the library, while Jarlan, of course, had his ruinic magic.

Most people thought that Blood on the Blade was a purely illusionist cult. They would be wrong. Oh so wrong. First, it was more like a guild than a cult. Second, there were very few illusionists actually in the group. He knew two of them, older men who told him horror stories about the war and the Illusionists being hunted down. They had survived, but most of those they knew with the same powers ended up dead.

That earned Rankin a hard hit to the back of the head. He fell forward, and both Jarlan and Werner just watched. Jay had warned him about using that name. The only reason Werner got away with it as often as he did was because Jarlan called him little flower. Both were equally annoyed by their respective nickname, but enjoyed the reaction of the other too much to stop using them. It was a mutually annoying relationship.

Not that it mattered, they were partners, and they had to at least tolerate each other. Even if no one was really sure exactly how they ended up paired together.

Botolf, when a member first appeared, would pair them with someone to teach them the ways of the group. Then, if they survived the first one, the new person would end up splitting with their mentor, and going off on their own. Before him, Jarlan had taught six people, three ended up dead because they kept making stupid mistakes, and he wasn't always there fast enough to save their lives.

There were only three pairs that actually stayed together. Rankin and Keenan, Werner and Jarlan, and Morven and Claudel were the only sets that got together for work. That wasn't to say that they couldn't work alone, Morven and Claudel hardly went together anymore, but they were still considered a pair.

Most of them preferred to work alone, which, given how easily people double crossed other people, was probably a good thing.

The funny part was that Rankin wasn't actually taught by Keenan, he was taught by someone else, a guy named Emil, who died shortly after their first mission. Then, Keenan had taken interest in the bubbly red head with a good sense of humor, and introduced himself. From there, as they say, the rest was history.

They also didn't just stay to their partner. Werner had worked with Keenan, who was a distraction specialist, and Morven, who was really good at making things melt. And, he guessed, Rankin, if that last part at the castle counted as a mission. Hah, probably not. But that was alright with him. The last thing he needed was another mission.

Once they were all functioning to the best of their mental capacities, they set up camp, with Rankin being forced to keep the first watch. Werner drifted off as the stars watched over him. He hoped that it would be a dreamless night, but wasn't going to hold his breath.

The first thing he heard was Jarlan groaning deeply. It was enough to wake him up. "W's wrong Jay?" He asked tired, turning over towards his best friend. Or at least, that was the goal.

The only thing he knew was something cold was holding him down.

"You are the most useless partner ever. Seriously, Werner, again? How the fuck did we get fucking get captured? Again?" The last word was more of a sigh then an actual word. But it wasn't that big of a surprise. In their time working together, which really was only every month or so, they ended up caught. Since he had become a thief, he had been caught six times, and he was sure Jarlan's number was closer to the triple digits.

"If I knew that," he hissed back, "do you really think I would still be here?" Sometimes, it took him a few extra minutes to actually wake up, mostly because he would keep sleeping until either fifteen hours, sometimes more, had passed, or he was woken by a person. "Where's Rankin?"

Jarlan sighed quietly. "I don't know. He must have gotten away when he heard whoever this is get here."

"Damn thief." Werner cursed under his breath.

Jarlan was about to say something cunning, and cutting knowing him, but never got the chance as an old, thick wooden door slowly opened. Werner felt dread in his stomach, and cursed when he realized he knew that door. From where, he wasn't sure, but he had bad feelings attached to that door, and he just wanted to never see it again.

"Would you like to introduce me to your friend, Werner?" A familiar voice asked. He knew that the door seemed familiar, and mentally categorized the picture he had taken of the door to an escape as soon as possible. And a you really don't want to be here.

"Fucking shit!" He cursed under his breath. Jarlan gasped to his side, which was the normal person equivalent of a scream of surprise. He wanted to smirk at it, like he was sure Jarlan would be if they weren't here of all places, but it wasn't really possible yet. Not when he was here."I already agreed to help you! What more to you fucking want?" Hell, he was planning to keep this guy from being killed, and would probably end up dead himself. As long as it wasn't Darius, it was alright.

Darius twisted his knife, his knife!, around his fingers, making Werner feel his blood pressure raising. No one touched his knives. No one.

Although, he had to admit, he was impressed that his idiot brother hadn't already sliced of one of his fingers. He felt something about that, but didn't really have time to process it, so it was shoved to the back of his mind.

"Insurance that you won't go off and sneak away to get drunk. I'm not stupid, Salix, and you only seem to care about two things these days. So I figure if I cut off a limb of this guy, you can have it back after you bring me proof that your idea will actually work. Then you can reattach it, or should I say have your other friend do it." Darius told him, casually walking over to the tables where they were being held. "You know the one. The guy you stupidly trusted to watch over you while you slept."

Alright, that was insulting. He had yet to get drunk, and even if everyone in the entire school, as well as his parents, thought he was an alcoholic, that didn't mean he was. Of all the things he had been called over the years, alcoholic was one of them that made him the most angry. Maybe it was because one of his only friends died when he was fifteen from alcohol toxicity. Maybe it was the fact that a drunk driver nearly took away his only chance to see his sister before she died. Add that to the fact that Darius Knew That was enough to almost make him lose himself in the red haze.

Or maybe.... a voice whispered in his head, it's just because out of all the things in the world, alcohol is the one that he always craved in the deep parts of his mind.

Well, maybe not the alcohol itself, but the effect it can have. It's supposed to calm the brain, and make people not care, and sometimes, he really just didn't want to feel.

Which was why he refused to drink.

Maybe the drink itself would wash away his feelings, if he drank enough, but the next day, not only would be most likely feel physically ill, but he would feel awful that he was weak enough to give in, in the first place.

That being said, it was a bit of a miracle that he didn't actually explode.

"Why can't you just trust me for once?" Werner yelled in frustration. What good was having someone that was supposed to have your back for your entire life if they couldn't trust you for anything? He usually kept his word, and wasn't sure why his brother thought mangling one of the few people he could stand was a good idea.

"I tried that," Darius hissed back, pressing his knife into the pinky finger of Jarlan's left hand. "I gave you freedom to move through my kingdom. And what do you do? Steal from me, and disappear into the night like a common thief."

"Hey! There's nothing common about me!" Werner argued. It was a weak argument, he knew. Honestly, he felt horrible about leaving like that, but he needed to leave before he exploded. He and his brother did not belong in the same room, or the same castle for that matter. Even being on the same continent was still too close sometimes. "Besides, you just wanted me to help you figure out how to send your soldiers to their deaths." he hissed.

"I asked you to help me win, you ass!" Darius shot back. "Not that I shouldn't have known better than to ask you of all people. You couldn't help a person get out of a paper bag, Werner!"

"Oh? So I can't? Please. You couldn't strategize how to kill the a damn troll even if you had a fucking manual. And you think you can do better than me? What fucking world do you live in Darry dear?" That was mean, he told himself. But oh so true.

"That's why I asked you, fucking idiot." Darius told him. Werner froze for a second.

Did Darius actually just admit that he was, he mentally choked, better at something than he was? Holy hell.

"Shut up!" Jarlan interrupted, causing both brothers to turn to him. Werner ducked his head. Trust Jarlan of all people to make him feel bad about arguing with his brother. He was slightly pale, which was strange considering his normally dark complexion, but still had all of his appendages attached. He considered that a plus, and was sure that Jarlan did as well. "Who are you? And why do you look like him?" He gestured in the direction of Werner with a rough movement of his head.

"Where are my manners? I am Darius Whiston, All King of Astren. The pleasure is yours, I'm sure." Darius introduced, giving them an over exaggerated bow. He looked well, but more tired than he had last time Werner had seen him. He was still dressed in heavy, but royal clothing, while Werner once again had to fight down his feelings of not being good enough. "Especially after meeting my dear younger, stupider, and girly twin brother. And yes, he is, surprisingly a little boy

Werner grit his teeth. "Fuck off Darry Dear. You are the one that bakes and wears an apron, not me." He hated to admit it, but he was still bitter about being reduced to stealing in order to survive, while his brother, once again, got everything handed to him. It just wasn't fair.

His twin through his head back and laughed. "How sad. You actually believe that you, the pathetic twin, has any sort of power here of all places? Please. This is my world, Werner. You just happen to live here. Besides, you're the one who gardens, and draws of all things."

Werner tilted his head for a moment. "You know," He said slowly, "I think that's the most egotistical thing I've ever heard you say." He said slowly. He knew it wasn't his best idea to tick off someone with who was threatening to remove someone else's appendages, but he was having trouble caring. Besides, his brother was being an ass, and if he didn't at least try and knock the ass off of his high horse, Werner didn't want to think about what he'd have to put up with. God only knew how the hell both he and Jarlan managed to fix in a room with Darius and his ego.

"It's not egotistical if it's true." Darius shot back with a hard glare.

He tried not to smile, and turned his face away just in case he couldn't hide it. "I'm pretty sure that's paranoia." He corrected.

"Excuse me? What reason would I have to be paranoid?" Darius was getting more and more offended, but his dangerous anger was starting to cool, leaving him with a calm disbelief.

Jarlan caught his attention, and shot him a message with his eyes. Werner translated it to mean something like: he's related to you? How the hell did someone like you end up related to him?

Werner shrugged, and rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately. No one really knows." He replied to the silent question.

"What are you talking about?" Darius interjected.

He tried not to startle. "Oh, you're still here? Don't you have, I don't know, documents to sign, or people to boss around?"

"Not really. I'd rather spend the time with you." Darius shot back.

"Why, little old me?" He asked with his eyes wide in fake innocence. "I'm flattered, but, alas, you are not my type."

Darius was about to blow, but then stopped and looked at him with a cold grin. "You are the reason she died. You are the reason mom and dad may have lost their only child for the rest of their lives. You are the reason everything goes wrong. You killed her. You are nothing more than a weak. Pathetic. Useless. Worthless. Little. Thief."

He knew that responding was a bad idea. He knew that he should just stay calm and logical, but he couldn't help the vicious smile that crossed his features. It wasn't very often that anyone could actually tell what he was feeling, but this was obvious. This was smug, cruel, and slightly sadistic.

He heard Jarlan groan quietly. He didn't really have to try to ignore it. "Now you did it. Come on, Werner, you don't want to do this, you really don't."

Turning to his best friend, he smiled brightly. "Actually, it just so happens I do, I really, really do. And I doubt I will be able to regret it even if I try to."

"No, you don't." Jarlan told him, trying to keep him calm. "Think about it for a second, you worked this hard to keep anyone else from knowing besides us. If he knows, he'll tell everyone, and then what? You wanted to keep this hidden, and I agreed to not say anything, ever. You can't just ruin a perfectly good plan on a spur of the moment thing. I know you have one. And think about later. You're going to be pissed that you kept going, if you keep going, and the only thing that either of us will be able to do is play down the rumors. It will take months to get the rumors to die down enough for you to get another job."

He hated to admit it, but he was impressed. He had never heard the older man say so much. In fact, it was hard to get him to say more than a few sarcastic quips. Actually going off on a tangent like that was extremely rare. He wasn't sure it had ever happened before.

Or that it would ever happen again.

He rested his head against the table, and sighed quietly. Jarlan was right.

If he sabotaged himself, he would be more than pissed. Especially if he lost whatever leverage that he had for him of all people.

That was unacceptable. He wasn't going to give up everything for his brother. Not again. He took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, before releasing it. He knew Darius was spewing venom again, but he focused only on his breathing. At the moment, the only thing that mattered was calming his raging mind.

It took him only a few seconds, before his green eyes snapped open and he watched his brother. He knew the best route to take, and wasn't ashamed to admit, even if it was only in his head, that he really didn't want to use it.

"Do you have to be a bastard?" He asked, calmer than he had been for the entire conversation.

Jarlan sent him a proud smirk, while Darius looked confused.

It wasn't exactly like he was known for his temper at home, per say, but he really wasn't someone that most people wanted angry. Which was fine, he didn't really enjoy the way it felt when the rage finally drained away.

"You're the one every one wished died while mom was in labor, not me." Darius shot back.

Werner just rolled his eyes. "After, what, eight years or is it closer to nine?, things like that have completely lost all leverage. There's a trick to that, you know. It's to keep things that you want to use until you actually need them."

"Ah, but if you wait too long, then it becomes useless. Just like you are."

Werner rolled his eyes. "If you know how to use it, or how to get it for that matter, no information will ever expire." Werner bantered back.

Darius snorted. "Oh yeah? Name one thing that would still affect someone if used today." Darius challenged.

"Fine." Werner accepted, sorting through what he knew. It took him only a few moments to start to smirk from a very interesting piece of information he had yet to share. "Did you know Arthur Golding has a box of stuffed animals he sleeps with every night? Including a stuffed blue octopus that I believe he called Jerry."

Darius gave him a disbelieving look. "There's no way that's true." He protested, " if it was, you would have used it already."

Werner tried not to let the others see the smirk on his face. "I had pictures to prove it in my bully blackmail binder."

"Then why didn't you ever use it?" Darius asked, incredulously.

Werner shrugged as much as he could. "There wasn't a point. Information like this just gets more valuable with age. Besides, he was just annoying me."

"Who else did you...?"

Werner had to think for a moment. "Pretty much everyone we grew up with, some of them that didn't last, a few teachers, and most of the newbie's."

"Most?" Darius sounded almost like he was afraid to ask.

"Yeah, there were a few that I didn't bother with, and a few more I just didn't have time to find out about. As long as they leave me alone, I don't bug them." He shrugged again. If they ever got home, the information could prove costly, but here, it was useless. Funny to think about on a bad day, but useless all the same.

"Wait." Darius said slowly. Werner tried not to roll his eyes. He was chained down, at his brothers mercy. What exactly was he supposed to do? "The Bully Blackmail Binder? That actually exists?"

Woops, he thought, no one was supposed to know for sure if it existed or not. It helped that there was a rumor that more than one person helped make it, and that it supposedly belonged to someone a few years younger. Then again, he had been planning on giving it to a freshmen that was new when he was about to graduate. Maybe. If he ended up going to college with someone from their high school, then he would probably keep it. Or just make a few copies and pass them around to the younger years. He wasn't exactly sure, but he knew that whatever he chose to do would be epic.

Jarlan cleared his throat, and was giving him a pointed look. They did need to get out of here, and figure out what happened to Rankin. If his brother was the one who found them, then the thief was probably still alive. If not, well, they probably only had orders to bring him in alive. No one would have specified what to do when they found out he wasn't alone. Hopefully, Rankin would be making a rescue party, but both of them knew not many would go to save them.

Especially since most who broke into the castle, wanting gems or prisoners would end up dead. They needed to get out of here before anyone ended up hurt, or worse, dead. But how?

A heavy knock took that choice away.

"Milord." Someone said through the door, "sorry to interrupt." The voice was muffled and hard to make out. Evidently, Darius was getting annoyed too. "Come inside, before you get yourself killed."

A young man, probably just a messenger from the looks of his extremely thin frame and rags for clothes. He had dirty blonde hair and light blue eyes.

"Sorry again, milord, but you asked to know when the captain and your mentor made it back. Sir said to tell you they were going to put their stuff away and meet you in the royal dining hall."

Message delivered, the man bowed, and shut the door with a loud thump. "Newbie?" Werner asked, sympathetic, and oh so amused.

"Squire, believe it or not. He's only got a few more months before he's a fully fledged knight."  
Both brothers were watching each other again, and neither seemed to know what to do.

Darius glanced at the door and sighed quietly, before straightening up. "Duty calls, gentleman," he said, looking at Jarlan, making it very clear who he was talking about. "Don't go anywhere." Darius finished, semi cheerful, and he knocked once. The doors seemed to open for him. Darius gave him a smirk, which Werner returned, and disappeared, the door closing behind him.

They waited a few minutes, before Jarlan turned to him. "You ready?"

Werner rolled his shoulders as much as possible, before nodding. He fell into his magic; and started on the chains holding them in place. Normally, he wanted blood, just to make it easier, but at the moment, he wanted to feel the magic burn through his veins as the metal melted with a prod from his mind. This one seemed to fight him more, but was overpowered enough to get free. Once he was rubbing his sore wrists and rotating his shoulders, he focused on Jarlan's chains. A few moments later, both were free, but Werner was having a bit of trouble putting them back. When he got it, as well as a chunk of metal small enough not to be missed, but big enough to wrap around his wrists, they were ready to get out as fast as possible.

Jarlan got behind him, and they slowly opened the door. Werner peeked out, seeing three guards playing this world's version of poker. None of them even noticed the soft clunk that the door made when it opened, but that was alright. He half wanted to tell his brother to get better security, but that was something to worry about later. After he stopped getting caught in the dungeon. He made a gesture behind his back, telling Jarlan that they needed to move quietly. If they were seen, all hell would break loose.

He sighed softly to himself, and began weaving an illusion of armor and cloth, like the guards uniform around them. He took a breath, and started leaving the room. His face was too easily recognized, so he had changed the light around it, and made it appear darker. His eyes were now deep brown in color.

The changes were slight, but they should be enough.

Jarlan followed his lead seamlessly. When he straightened his shoulders, and added a bit of swag, for lack of a better word, to his walk, he knew they would be getting out.

"Hey! You two wanna play?" One of the guards slurred. Jarlan shoved his elbow into Werner's side, and his eyes moved to the table the guards were around. His eyes widened. They weren't playing poker, but more like dominos, except they were using little pieces of stone with etches on them. They were getting drunk while playing with powerful ruins. And from the look in Jarlan's eyes, he wanted them. A runic master like himself would be far better suited for them than a bunch of drunk guards.

"Sure." Werner smirked at the look that Jay was giving him. It was almost like his partner didn't think he had a plan.

How insulting.

His partner knew better than that, but that didn't stop him from feeling a little smug when one of the guards kicked a chair to him, and he caught it.

"I'll meet you later." He told Jarlan, hoping the other got the message to get out of there before the illusion wore off. He stretched his arms over his head, and secretly gestured that the illusion would last for twenty minutes before he tore it down.

Jarlan gave him a long sigh, but nodded. "Fine. But don't be late."

He nodded back. He would be out before the twenty minutes were up. Long before then if he had anything to say about it. Jarlan turned away, but Werner was aware that if he wasn't out, Jarlan would break back in, only to drag him out by his ear.

As the guards were talking, he got to work. He slowly, and ever so carefully created duplicates of the ruins, hiding the real ones away in his shirt. It only took him a few moments to make the switches. After a few minutes, he stretched again. "I've gotta get out of here." He told the drunk men. "Night watch and all that."

"Really?" One of them asked, "where?"

"South east corner, by the stables." He lied, shrugging off the feelings that, as always, accompanied it.

The guards winces in sympathy. "Pissed off the captain, did you?" Another asked, taking a long drink and hiccupping right after.

Werner nodded. "A bit. It's hard not to some days."

It appeared the men agreed with him, even if they didn't want to say so, and, since they weren't paying attention, he snatched the bag the ruins came in. He waved over his shoulder, hearing the men wishing him luck.

He would need it too, he thought to himself. He was tired, run down, and as soon as he got out of here, he was going to do something extremely stupid. He would take all the luck he could get.

He couldn't believe how easy it was to get out of the castle when he looked like a guard. Sometimes, even he forgot about the guards, always watching, and everywhere. After this, he swore to himself never to forget about them again.

Jarlan was pacing nervously in the same spot he was last time.

Werner gave him a smirk, but it faded when the other continued to look worried.

"Jay?" He questioned quietly, unsure what could have put the other in such a somber mood. Jarlan wordlessly pointed to a nearby tree, and upon further investigation, he realized his bag was there, so was Jarlan's.

"What?"

"Rankin was here. Only he and Keenan would know that we met here." Jarlan answered. Werner raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't that a good thing?" He asked, "doesn't that mean he's alright?"

"It means," Jarlan hissed, "that Rankin heard someone coming and left us asleep, and that he dropped our stuff off here, which meant he was there when they took us, and didn't just run, but left us there."

Werner tried not to snort. "Are you saying you would have done differently?"

"No, probably not." Jarlan said finally.

"So why are you so upset?" Werner asked. Jarlan gave him a strange look.

"If I was on watch, I would have gotten you up first, and made sure you were safe before biding my time to get him."

Maybe it was just because they had been working together so long, but he knew what the other wasn't saying.

"You think Keenan warned him."

"I think instead of staying awake and keeping watch, he fell asleep, and made his partner have to chose between him and us. There was a chance that they were only after him, which I'm assuming was why Keenan got Rankin out first."

Werner gave him a weird look. "Are you telling me, and correct me if I'm wrong, that you are mad because someone fell asleep. The same thing you always get on to me for not doing enough of. Is that what you're saying?" He asked slowly.

Jarlan grimaced. "Sounds stupid when you say it like that."

"It sounds stupid any way you say it. Besides, he probably knew that Keenan was there, and knowing him, I wouldn't be surprised if Keenan told him to sleep. Would you?"

Jarlan gave out a long sigh. "Sounds just like him." Werner gave the other a hard nod.

They stayed quiet for a few seconds. Jarlan was clearly dying to ask something, and Werner's mind ran to the worst. He warily made a 'get it over with' gesture, and tried not to be so obvious with his discomfort.

"Where's Whiston?" Jarlan spat out after another minute of silence. "I know you don't like to talk about where you're from, or your family, or your life at all really, but I have to know. I've never heard of it before, so that means its far, right? And I've heard of most places, but never Whiston."

Werner stayed quiet, before sighing, more to himself than anything else. "It's not a place." He admitted quietly. "It's my name."

Jarlan looked confused. "I thought your name was Werner."

"It was, it is, but Whiston is like my," he paused again, unsure of how to explain something like a last name to someone who grew up not knowing what a blender was. It took a few seconds, before he settled on something. "It's a clan name. Kind of. It tells who my family is, more than it does where they're from. Darius, for instance is Darius Whiston. My dad was born with the same name, just like his dad before him."

Was it stupid? Yes. Would it work? He could see Jarlan's brain attempting to make sense of it.

"So you were born rich?" Jarlan asked.

Werner shrugged. "Upper middle class actually. But kind of."

Jarlan looked sick, and backed a couple of steps away. "You were born into a clan, and you never told me?" Jarlan almost shouted.

Werner raised his eyebrow again. "To be fair, you never really asked. Besides, what does it matter? It's a name, my name, but it has no more of a hold over me than my clients mysteriously starting to call me nightshade."

"Of course it matters! Clans kill, Werner, clans torment villages, and try to rule, because there word is law, and even if they say anything, who would listen?"

He tried not to be offended by Jarlan's sudden passion on the subject.

"Firstly, I said it was like a clan name, not that I was a part of a clan. And second, I don't want to know what kind of mine field I accidently stumbled on to, but if you could remember that any loud noises or being stupid in any way could get us both killed, that would be great. And lastly, chill. I didn't do anything to anyone, and I know you aren't trying to blame me for something my family may or may not have done. Haven't you told me that you are supposed to judge a man by his actions, not his blood?"

Jarlan seemed to sneer at that. His dark fists balled at his sides. "Haven't I also told you that if you keep secrets, you need to be prepared for them to bite you in the ass?"

Werner rolled his eyes, and tossed the bag full of the ruins he had wanted towards him. "Fine. Hate me for my genetics. It's not like you're the first, and god knows you won't be the last." He grabbed his bag and hitched it over his shoulder.

While it sucked that Jarlan was angry at him, again, it was also a good thing. It meant that Jarlan wouldn't follow him, or seek him out for a long while. Which was probably a good thing, seeing as his rational side was still trying to convince him that going after his brother's first target by himself was an extremely stupid idea.

Jarlan just watched him leave, and Werner tried not to be offended by the sudden steely glint in the other's eyes. He would get over it. If not, well, it was nice while it lasted. With that, he set off towards the sea again, hoping that he would be able to remember exactly where the first one was hiding, even if he wasn't able to look at the map again.

He soon disappeared into the trees.

He didn't see the strange look in Jarlan's eyes, nor did he see Rankin and Keenan pop up a few minutes later. All he knew was that he had to get rid of the monster before his brother died, or die trying.


	12. Chapter 11

He was heading back. His mind was screaming at him to not do this, but he couldn't listen. Against all of his rationality, he was going back to the same shore where he had seen the dragon, which, ironically, was the same place that one of the pieces on the map was set up. Or, at least, it was fairly close to it.

On his way out, he had heard, as well as seen the guards starting to gather for a quest. His brother was nowhere to be found amongst the crowd, but Werner knew better than to think that would stay true.

From the supplies needed, the speed of an army that size, as well as how often they would need to stop and rest, he knew he could take his time. Wide awake and always moving, he had made the trip in just over three days, but this time, he would take his time. He stopped for food a few times, and even managed to slip in a few naps.

The trip would take him around five days, which was fine, because he guessed that even if he slept all night and took an hour or two to start moving, he would still be ahead by at least half a day.

Probably closer to two, his mind corrected, since they were walking, and there were so many people to move, as well as supplies.

Which meant he didn't feel badly at all for stopping in a small village on the way. Miawen was a small, lakeside town, with a few people. They were always up for a chat, especially with someone that had passed by a few times, like he had.

"Havard! Harvard! Where are you headed?" Helice, a baker for the small village asked.

"Helice! Good to see you. You are looking as beautiful as ever." It was true. Her hair was a golden blonde that fell over her shoulders in soft waves, her light blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight. Yes, she was a beautiful woman, with a sweet personality. Except…

She giggled behind her delicate hand, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "You are too kind, Havard." She got closer to him, and he resisted the urge to back away. She always got way to close to him, and he was never sure exactly why she did it.

"Get off of the poor man Helice." A soft voice filled with exasperation told her. He glanced behind her, and sure enough, there was Aldora.

Somehow, Helice and Aldora were best friends, almost like sisters. Each was beautiful in their own right, but they were so different. Aldora had dark raven hair, and soft brown eyes. She was slightly shorter, but far more respectful of people's personal space. She was also the quieter of the two, but somehow, that made it so that when she spoke, everyone wanted to listen.

"How are you, Aldora?" He asked, his voice was warmer towards the quieter of the two.

She gave him a quirky smile. "I've been well. Still running around after miners?"

"Of course." He replied. They thought he traveled with people often so that he could sneak away with little bits of metal they were never going to use. And yet both girls still liked him, as did most of the other villagers. "I'm actually here for a reason. Have either of you heard about any sort of disturbances lately?"

Helice's eyes lit up. "Oh! You're talking about the weird storms this year. I've heard that the mountains are burning up this year, due to some weird heat wave. And there seem to be a lot of wind storms near Lirac."

"I was actually thinking more along the lines of something closer to the oceans." He suggested, hoping to steer the conversation towards whatever the first thing he that Darius was going after.

"You aren't going to believe this." Aldora interrupted, "But there were a couple of men that, well, they said there was some sort of giant sea serpent with three heads and poison so strong it can kill a large animal just by breathing on it."

"But," Helice added, "there's no proof, nor were these people the most reliable. I think that during the storm which wiped out their town, they were having delusions so that they could cope with the losses and be angry at something rather than just nature. I'm sure he doesn't want to hear about things like that, Dora."

Werner suddenly wasn't so sure. That didn't sound like a dragon at all. It sounded like… No, there was no way that was possible. He tried to put the thought out of his mind, but he had a feeling that the only reason he knew about the dragon was because he guessed it, sarcastically, sure, but he still was the one who said it. Darius would happily keep things from him if he thought he was doing the right thing, by any of them.

He tried not to grimace. This was bad. Very, very bad.

"They called it a, well, I don't know what it is, but they called it a Leviathan." Aldora told him.

That was somehow worse than what he thought. Then again, he wasn't sure why he was thinking a hydra, but he had been. Suddenly, a hydra didn't sound so bad. But that didn't make any sense. a leviathan didn't have three heads, or did it?

He had only a passing interest in mythology, and while he knew enough to recognize most of the more well known creatures, he didn't really know much about a leviathan. He knew more about the Greek monsters than the ones from the rest of the world. But with how popular Greek mythology was, compared to say, roman or Celtic, it wasn't that big of a surprise.

The leviathan, on the other hand, he knew nothing about. That was one of the most terrifying things he could ever imagine. He wondered if his brother was smart enough to gather some sort of information before he set out, or if he, like always, just ran into it blindly.

No, with all of the people that he had to watch over and protect, he wouldn't be so foolish. Or at least, if he was that stupid, there would be someone to stop Darius from risking the lives of so many of his men.

"Okay," he said slowly, "so it's a leviathan. Great. I can handle that." He was speaking in a quiet, low voice, more so he could hear the words and try to believe them than talking to anyone else.

"You aren't thinking about going there, are you?" Aldora asked.

He shook his head. "No, not really." And he wasn't. He was thinking about the creature he was going to be soon facing, and not so much where it was located. "Thanks for your help." He told the girls, before shrugging his bag further up his shoulder.

He had a plan, or at least the basis of it, but for it to work...

"Do either of you know if Saif has some spare parts I can borrow?" He asked. He should have been focused on the girls, but his mind was trying to problem solve. Easier said than done when you're trying to figure out how to kill something that could literally be anything.

Helice and Aldora exchanged looks. He may have been up to something, but they had no right to ask what it was. He wasn't a family member, nor was he a close friend, he was someone who stopped by occasionally and did not mind Helice's over the top excitement, or Aldora's cold demeanor. To most people, that would be enough to make them friends, but neither of the girls knew anything about him, besides the fact that he liked to work with metal.

Well, that and his weird habit of never letting his bag out of his sight.

"There might be some scraps." Helice offered hesitantly. "There won't be much, you know how he is, but there should be something at least."

Aldora nodded. "Why don't you go ask him yourself? You know he wouldn't mind the company." She added.

"Might as well." He muttered to himself. "Oh!" He almost forgot, "if someone comes, asking about me could you...?"

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" Aldora asked, lowering her voice so that the people around them wouldn't hear them.

"No." At least, he didn't think he was, "I just prefer for people not to know my business unless I tell them myself." He told them, shrugging his shoulders. Suddenly, thunder cracked loudly in the distance, and he flinched.

He needed this done as fast as possible. He needed to destroy the thing before it had time to fully regain its strength. Then again, that was assuming it didn't already come out of its cage with a belly full of power.

"You know, Havard, you seem different than other men." Aldora told him, catching his eyes with hers. "You don't seem like someone who should seen strife and battle, you have something breakable about you that makes people want to protect you."

He snorted. "More like something about me that makes people want to kill me."

She tilted her head slightly. "Maybe. But someday, I hope you realize that you are not as alone as you believe. You have people who want to be there for you, should you simply give them a chance."

Helice looked between them, and sighed quietly to herself, defeat colored her usual bubbly posture.

"Maybe I'm not alone." He agreed, suddenly feeling exhausted. "But sometimes, I have to wonder if that's a good thing or not."

That was true. He couldn't help but wonder if Jarlan, Rankin, Keenan, heck, even if Erasmus was worth it.

Was it worth keeping people who have the ability to hurt him close? Was it worth the sharp pang that went through his chest whenever they decided to be mad at him for something he either can't help, or cannot understand? Then again, did that make him a coward if he kept them all away?

After a moment, he decided that it just wasn't worth thinking about. He would get hurt either way, and most likely, he would hurt others in the process.

People sucked.

Helice seemed to be searching for a safe topic, and after a few moments, found one. Aldora just looked content to wait in the silence.

"Since you're not from around here, that means you probably haven't heard about a leviathan, or the other forbidden chaos, have you?" Helice asked, seeming to perk up a bit at the idea of storytelling.

Aldora drooped. "What is it with you and that story?" She asked, completely exasperated with the other.

"Oh come on! Even you used to love it! It had the knights for the boys, the almost annihilation if an entire group, and the trapping of the seven most powerful beings in existence, for you."

Werner perked up a bit.

"But what's in it for you?" Aldora asked again.

Helice just smiled. "I get the friendships, the suspected romance, and the ending that is both perfect, and imperfect."

Werner tried not to roll his eyes, but decided that, as long as it didn't take very long, he would hear it. After he came back.

Right now, though, he needed to get his hands on some metal. The more, the better. He was already going to use all of his sculptures, but he doubted it would be enough.

To his surprise, he heard Saif before he saw the grouchy old man. Werner decided that following the cursing was probably not a bad idea.

He found the man in the back. His beard, white and curly, was singed at the bottom, and the curses left his mouth at he patted at them. There were a few embers that he noticed; but Saif seemed to notice them to, and quickly put them out.

"Are you alright?" He asked, edging closer to the older man.

Saif didn't jump; the old man probably knew was there from the moment he had gotten within ten feet of the place.

Which was probably why his attention was on the pile of rusty blades near his feet, and not on him.

"Afternoon laddie." Saif greeted, kneeling down again to poke at the pile with a small humph. "Quite the storm that's brewing."

"Sounds like it." He agreed. "I was wondering if you happened to have some scraps I can use."

Saif sent him a piercing look. "What exactly do you have planned?"

Werner just returned the look. "Things."

The older man just rolled his eyes. "That's what I thought..."

It was a rule that everyone who knew Werner had to follow. When he didn't want to answer questions, don't expect him to. While he didn't like to lie, per say, he was extremely good at bending it so that, while technically truthful, his answers never gave things away.

Saif, just like Jarlan before him, had to put up with it. He would enjoy his company while he was there, and just breath again once he was gone.

He cursed again, and just gestured at the pile of useless, broken, old swords on the floor. "You can have those, if you want them. They aren't worth much, an' are more trouble than their worth."

Werner's eyes lit up slightly. "Oh! You were trying to melt them down so that you could remake them. It's a good idea, but these don't, well, they don't seem like they would be much good." To a normal person, that would be true. But to him, well, they would be more than enough. Saif waved him off, and Werner slid them in his bag, carefully not noticing the look of surprise that the older man was giving him.

He knew it was time when the storm started pouring down. It was time for him to try and do something stupid. But first, he needed a weapon.

His mind was crafting something, and as soon as he was at the outskirts, he dumped the swords on the ground, and let his mind lift them.

First, they were melted. Six of the broken pieces became a sword that was three times the normal width and length, and the rest of them were put in a ball that seemed to breath with molten metal.

His other pieces quickly joined the ball. The only piece of metal that he owned and crafted that wasn't in the ball, was three strips of metal from his last encounters. This was going to take more than just a basic idea to actually get the sword to be useful. He sat down and started draining out all of the impurities until all that was left was a bright, gleaming metal, like nothing he had ever seen before.

He wasn't sure what exactly he was looking at, but he knew it was something entirely different than he was used to. It wasn't bronze, or iron, or steel, but something totally different. The metal its self seemed more like a tarnished gold, but seemed off. It wasn't gold, that was clear, gold, while beautiful wasn't exactly practical, but this…

He lifted it with both hands and hissed at the metal on the handle. It was hot. Really, really hot. He left it where it was, and searched through his bag for something that would make it a little more bearable.

He gave up after a few minutes. There was nothing that he had, but that didn't mean there wasn't anything that he could do. He carefully lifted his sword again, this time using a shirt to block some of the heat, and moved back towards Saif's home.

It was weird, looking back, how little the older man reacted when he saw Werner was once again in his presence.

He didn't even seem to flinch when he handed over a strong, large strip of black leather, before slamming the door shut.

Werner took that moment to tie it around the handle. The off gold went surprisingly well with the black of the leather. It would be difficult to transport, but he was sure that he could come up with something.

To his surprise, Saif came out a moment later with a far longer strip of leather that he could use to strap the sword to his back. It was just over half of Werner's height, but extremely light. It would take two hands to maneuver though, which meant that if he was using it, his knives would be particularly difficult to use at the same time. Great.

This wasn't the best time to be trying to learn how to use a brand new weapon, but Werner was nothing if not resourceful.

It took a few moments, but the sword smith finally caught eyes on his creation, and froze. His mouth gaped for a few moments. There wasn't any way that the look that Saif was giving him could be considered good.

Werner was suddenly yanked inside by his tunic, and the door slammed behind him. There was something sharp against his neck in moments.

"And what," Saif asked slowly, "exactly is someone like you doing with a sword made out of baosh?"

Werner blinked.

"Is that what this is?" He shrugged, more to himself, and tried not to hiss when the blade was sunk deeper into his skin.

"Baosh can only be made by a metal master. It requires a large amount of devotion, time, and energy to make something even just a fraction of this size. Do you know what that can mean for not only metallurgy everywhere, but armies across the land? Finding a piece of something that can be mixed together to form something like this, I don't even have words…"

"What exactly is the something?" Werner couldn't help but ask. Saif rolled his eyes.

"A mix of pewter, steel, vyram, and a few traces of multiple other things."

"Damn it." Werner cursed, he must have mixed some of his money in with the mess that was now his sword. He half wondered if there was any way to separate it again, before realizing it was a lost cause.

He slumped down a bit, and felt the blood trail down his neck.

"I didn't mean to do that." He told the elder, sulking slightly. "I just meant to get the pieces I crafted and melt them, not get some of my money in a piece of…"

The older man slapped him across the face.

"Do you even know what kind of treasure you created? And accidently, with just scraps! You managed to create something that is said to be able to absorb almost any toxin, and keep its light weight. It can seep poison into any wound it causes! Do you know the possibilities that something like this can cause in the hands of someone like me? I would be able to make at least ten knives, maybe more, and sell them to any kingdom willing to pay the price. I would never have to sell anything again! I could make this town start to thrive, by myself!" Saif's voice was starting to sound a bit … crazed, but that didn't stop Werner from shoving the annoyance away.

He brought his hand up to his neck, and winced slightly. "That's going to scar." He muttered to himself. He wasn't exactly sure why this man, who was usually so even tempered, and kind was reacting like this.

There was a strange haze in the older man's eyes that he couldn't help but notice that it got stronger every time the man looked at his sword.

"Just so I know, is there any weird, oh I don't know, mind control powers that this sword can cause?" He asked.

Saif seemed to shrug himself out of the daze, at least slightly. "It is said that baosh can cause some people's emotions to amplify. It may be because the correct recipe has been lost for centuries, but some people are willing to do anything for even a few shavings from something like this. Some people…"

And, the man was once again drooling over the sword.

While there were many jokes he thought about making, he stayed quiet, and had to hope he didn't pull something.

The man was starting to reach out for it, but Werner had an idea.

"Why don't I give this to you?" Most would have thought him stupid for even suggesting it, but if it got him where he was hoping to go, then he would do it, over and over again if he had to.

The older man looked suspicious. "Why would you give something so valuable to someone you hardly know?"

Werner raised his eyebrow. "I wouldn't."

Saif looked confused.

"Then what…?"

That was what he had been waiting for.

"Well, Saif, I am going to make you a deal. You are not going to say anything to anyone about my sword, and after I finish something, you can have it. No strings, no deals, just the sword after I finish something."

Hook.

The man seemed hesitant. "It would lose its value if it gets messed up…"

"Ah, but I made it, so I can fix it. Besides, wouldn't it be even more valuable to you if it somehow had poison on it?"

Line.

"But if it gets…"

"I might make you another one, since I know how I made this one."

Sinker.

"Tell me more." Saif winded his fingers through his beard, and seemed entranced.

Gotcha.

That was a lie, of course. A flat out lie. He wasn't going to be making anything for the man who was showing an extremely different side at the moment. He wasn't exactly expecting this of all things when he came around to ask if the man had some spare leather he could use, but that didn't mean that he was above using it for something he wanted.

And, as it so happened, the man just so happened to have something he wanted.

"I will give you the sword after I finish something, but only if you give me something in exchange."

The other man frowned, but Werner wasn't worried. "I thought you said no deals."

"I did," he agreed, "but this isn't a deal. This is an exchange of sorts. I want to borrow a book from you for the next week. After that, you get the book back, as well as the sword. What do you say?"

The sharpness suddenly appeared in the man's eyes. They lost all of the haziness, or, more accurately, it seemed as if Saif had somehow shoved it back. No one wanted to lose something that valuable, or just let it slip through their fingers.

Even if they were never going to get their hands on it in the first place. Saif just had to move far enough away for him to reach the door. While the man wasn't looking, he had already gotten the book he wanted from the man's desk.

Not that he would notice. Werner had every intention of returning the book. It was just his sword he was lying about. He somehow already knew it was his, and that in the hands of someone like Saif, who would be after it for money, despite his skills as a blacksmith, that didn't mean he was after it for its workmanship, or even just because he wanted to work with the rare metal.

The man seemed to realize that everything wasn't as it seemed, and reached for what must have been the most valuable book in his possession.

Werner's eyes widened, and he shoved his power into the illusion in the man's desk, making it solid. The only problem was if it was opened. The book would look the same on the outside, and feel the same, but since he didn't know what the book was like, or what was in it, he couldn't make it seem like the words belonged on the page.

Luckily, it seemed like Saif wasn't in the mood to actually open the illusion. He just ran his hand over the spine, and snapped.

One second, Werner was inching towards the door, the next, he had a set of throwing knives coming at his face. He yelped, sounding rather stupid, and ducked. The man didn't seem to just have the set of three, but many, many more.

"How about I pry my sword from your cold, dead hands?" Saif asked sending another set that got far too close for his comfort.

"Damn it, Saif! Can't we just talk about this?" He was rolling, and dodging, and ducking.

The man was a master blacksmith, and he was good with his knives. Unfortunately for him, Werner was better. The sword clanked on the ground, and Werner had his throwing knives pinning the other to a wall in less than a second.

"I asked nicely!" He growled out, grabbing his longest dagger, more for intimidation than practicality. He twirled it between his fingers, and tossed it up. He caught it, and twirled it again. "You know, I think I'm going to take some souvenirs. You're good, Saif, but never assume you're the best person in the room. At least, don't assume unless you want to make yourself look like an ass."

"What do you want Havard?" The other man growled.

For the first time in a long time, it took him a few moments to figure out that the man was referring to him. He wanted to yell that wasn't his name, but he couldn't. He wasn't going to take this man's life, so he couldn't say or do anything that he didn't want to be used against him sometime soon.

"I want to leave here, and never have you or yours come after me again."

Saif gave him a dark chuckle, Werner simply pushed the knife he was playing with into the man's skin.

"I seem to be missing the joke." He said, careful to keep his voice light, like he was making small talk with one of the girls. He inwardly flinched. There was a very small chance that he was going to be able to come back here after this was over.

Best not to think about it, he told himself.

"You really think this stops with just one? That sword you have is cursed. You will be dead by the end of the week. Mark my words, what you have discovered was best left for those long buried to know. You will be running and hiding for the rest of your life." Saif hissed.

Werner snorted. "Please. I already have people trying to kill me. What's a few more?"

The older man laughed again. "These men will be stronger than normal, and the magic in the sword will call to those without, like yourself, and steal your soul from your body with just a bit of blood."

Great. Not only did he have a sword that people wanted, and made them crazy, he also had a sword that if handled by, say, his brother, could possibly steal his soul. Just what he needed.

His eyes lit up. He had an idea.

He was going to put a powerful illusion over the blade. He would need to read a bit more, but he was sure he could find something… suitable.

For now, the man in front of him needed the show of his life. Werner had to scare him so badly that he wouldn't even think about trying this again.

He smirked, and backed up a bit. This man was a blacksmith, a sword master of sorts. What if his weapons went against him? Without Werner's… obvious interaction.

He lifted his arms dramatically, and ducked his head. He breathed and waited for the other to get free. He could win this using just his blades, but he had been wanting to try this out for a long, long time. Three minutes later, Saif was attempting to throw knives at him again. He would have laughed if it wouldn't have ruined the image he was attempting to show.

As soon as the blades left the older man's hands, Werner raised his head, his eyes snapping to Saif, and his palms shoved outwards.

The man laughed, but it died as the blades stopped mid air.

"You know how you said that those without magic would lose their souls if they handled this? Well, guess what?" He flicked his fingers, unneeded, but it looked cool. All of the things with metal in the shop lifted from where they had been laying. "I have magic." He shoved them forward with his mind, careful not to let them pierce the other, but making it obvious that he could easily kill the other should he be so inclined.

Luckily for Saif, he had what he wanted, and he needed to leave before the storm started getting worse again. The little break in the rain was gone. It was pouring, but that was better for him. He needed to get going.

"Should you try and follow me, or attack me, the blades will kill you before you can even twitch. If you even think about trying to harm me, I can't guarantee your safety. Your shop will go back to normal after another seven minutes and counting. Have a nice day, Saif." And with that, he picked up his sword, strapped it to his back with the leather the other had given him, and walked into the stinging, cool rain.

He wasn't strong enough to link the blades to intentions, but it was a nice thought. And it would scare the man. He wouldn't think that he could trust his tools again. The man would be scared. Every time something shifted, or moved, he would think that it was him.

If only it were that simple.

He shivered, and tried not to walk into anything. He had to get out of here, and back to the beach. He had wasted enough time just waiting around, and socializing.

Werner tried not to flinch. He didn't need to socialize, and he wouldn't be able to come back here anytime soon.

He loved to play with fire, but only when he had protective gear, a bucket of water, and lots of cloth to smother it should it get out of control.

That meant he wasn't going to take any chances with the man suddenly deciding that the blade was worth more than his life was. He ducked his head, and started moving, trusting himself to follow a strange pull that seemed to start in his very soul.


	13. Chapter 13

He heard the sea far before he saw it. The waves crashing against the beach were almost louder than the thunder that seemed to echo it. He took a deep breath, and paused.

In person, the leviathan was far worse than he ever imagined. It was huge, the body alone was easily as big as a house. Three vicious heads that looked like someone bred a crocodile and a shark loomed out of the ocean. It was far from shore, but even twenty feet out, it seemed huge.

This had to be the stupidest thing he had ever done in his life. He shoved the sword that he made himself into the sand, and shouted a single word.

"Calder!"

All three heads seemed to turn to him at the same time, and it swam leisurely over towards him.

By the time it was close enough, he was suddenly doubting how wise this was.

"Well, well. Look what we have here." The middle head hissed out.

"Looks like a little human is trying to play hero." The one on the right responded.

"Yes. Unfortunately for it, we have eaten things larger than it in a single bite." The left finished.

"Why have you left your prison?" Werner asked loudly, hoping his voice would be able to carry over the thunder and rain.

All three heads seemed to laugh, and it got closer, leaving the water to reveal a huge body, similar to an alligator, but brighter. Its bright blue and green scales shimmered dangerously, each looking about the size of Werner's head.

He knew the bright coloring was supposed to warn of its poisons, and he had to hope it didn't decided to just breath on him. He had to hope it would be amused enough to let its guard down.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, before moving them to lock with the head in the middle. The two heads on the sides were said to be able to kill by just breathing on something, but the middle one, well, wasn't.

It bent down, the side heads stayed stretched up towards the sky.

"Why would we stay?" It hissed.

"Why would you leave?" He countered.

The middle head laughed, the other two seemed to echo its amusement, but stayed back.

Werner's mind absorbed that.

Good.

It wanted to talk, and then eat him, but most likely, it did not consider him a threat. Which meant it wouldn't be on its guard like it should be. He was careful not to let his own down.

The middle head got closer, and huge red eyes stared into his own. He could reach out and touch it, it was so close. He locked his own eyes on their eyes, and was careful to keep his eyes open, even if the rain splashed in them a few times.

After about a minute, it broke off the contact, and he mentally sighed in relief, blinking a few times now that it was allowed.

"I have been expecting you for a long time, little, delicate flower. Should I, the master of the seas, command my tides to come and swallow you up?" The middle head asked, giving him a good view of the three rows of sharp, deadly teeth in its mouth. "It is my right, as the seas master to be in my home, among my thousands of spawn."

Werner's eyes widened. "They are all dead!" He hoped they were. Its children would have gotten large in the last few hundred years.

It tilted its large head. "For now." It agreed. "The humans have, as always, been cruel to my kind, and my kin. But that does not mean I have not continued to grow stronger and larger every day. Even in that prison I was cursed to. I am sure my brethren are the same. Stronger, larger, and wiser than ever."

"I wouldn't ever think that someone like me could ever defeat something as magnificent as you." Werner told Calder. It would be easier for him to think of the monster before him as nothing more than a thing, but it wasn't. It had a name, and it deserved to hear its name. He imagined that it would have been torturous to be locked away, unable to do more than simply watch as humanity changed before his very eyes.

That didn't seem to stop his burning need to kill it before it harmed his brother or any of those that found themselves under his reign.

"Ah, but you do." It hissed lowly. "If you believe, as you say, then you would know that I will take your life."

"I wouldn't be surprised." He admitted. That was true. He was expecting to fall in this battle, and had made his peace with it. If it made it so his brother was able to survive, then it worth it. That didn't mean he was just going to roll over and die. He had a few tricks to try before just giving up.

He would beat this thing, or, at the very least, weaken it enough that his brothers army would be able to deliver the final blow.

"You come willing to your demise?" Calden asked, seeming both amused, and curious.

That was good. That meant it was falling for the illusion he had learned. He ducked slightly behind the sword which was currently in the shape of a large stone to anyone who wasn't him.

He conjured another illusion, this one he gave his voice, and his body. It stepped away from the bolder, leaving Werner to chain together a few others. He needed to make himself invisible. That was easier said than done. First, he had to make the light bend around him, making it so that eyes could not see him. Then, he had to erase his footprints in the soggy, glutinous sand. It seemed to try and drag him to its depths with every step, but the marks wouldn't be there. Then, he had to make the rain still look like it was falling, and not just hitting an invisible creature. That was just what he had to do for him, not for the illusion of himself. Calder was starting to look bored, and he desperately tried to find a way to keep it focused on what it saw, and not on what he was.

"I may. But I must know, first, how the rest were wiped out. How did such powerful creatures, the ones like you, suddenly become only seven?"

Calder tilted its head at the illusion. He knew his voice would be bouncing a bit, he had to speak to make the illusion do the same. But it was only the barest of a whisper on his side, which would have turned into a shout out of the illusions mouth. He was careful to keep his concentration evenly split as he circled around, trying to figure out some sort of weakness that he could use. It wasn't easy, but while Calder was indulging his illusion by a story he had heard before, granted not from this side, he found something. There was a single dark brown spot under its neck middle neck, where the three heads seemed to meld together.

Something kept drawing his eyes back to the spot, even if he tried to dismiss it. Somehow, he knew that was where he needed to hit. That figured out, he backed away from it, and switched back with his illusion. It was exhausting to try and keep so many things going at the same time.

Its head seemed to snap towards the beach, and it laughed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw what the other was laughing about. He assumed it thought that he was just a way to keep it still long enough for the cavalry to arrive, but his plan was slightly different.

While it wasn't watching him, he moved. First, he moved the metal from the ball he had made earlier. It took less than a second to respond to his call, and he moved it, causing thick bands to hold all three heads to the ground. Then its legs were forced down. His fingers twitched, and the legs were taken out from underneath it. Calder was screaming now, trying to escape, but it wasn't moving without his permission.

Another twitch, and Calder's middle head was being strained backwards, revealing the spot that he had noticed earlier. He got closer, and realized that it was a missing scale. It normally wouldn't do much damage, but he wasn't normal, and neither were his weapons.

His hands wrapped around the sword, yanked it up, and shoved it through that plain spot. It went in smoothly, and he tried not to think about anything but the job. People were getting closer, but they would be too late to stop him from killing Calder.

His powers rushed through his body, and he gasped. Illusions could be powerful, but this, this was something completely different. Something rushed through his veins, and seemed to stop behind his eyes. It was time.

While the sword was long, it wouldn't be long enough to reach the organs. But once the metal was inside, he could guide it to its target. His mind was focused completely on the metal. He could feel it, touch it, and control it. It was his.

He felt it dig through muscle towards the heart, where it exploded outwards. Apparently, ancient creatures that tried to eat him didn't get along with his sword. Who knew?

One second, the leviathan was rearing back to attack, and the next, its blood was shoving past the scales and towards him. He was shocked to find his power latch onto it, but didn't question it, and directed it towards an empty part of the beach.

His hair was sticking to his face as water ran down. Of course, there was iron in blood, not much, but apparently there was enough for him to be able to mold. He reared his hand back, and spun his fingers. The iron from the blood, as well as the metal from his blade came rushing towards him. It spun around him, and he easily molded it back into the shape of a blade.

The blood sprayed him, but it was missing the poison, which was being absorbed by his blade, and seemed to be little more than the blood of a human. Except that it was thicker, and slightly darker. The blood oozed from the wound, even as the heart stopped beating.

He examined the blade, and raised an eyebrow. It had changed. It was about three times as wide, and heavy as hell, he couldn't help but notice. He wrapped the strip of leather around the handle, and sighed to himself.

He couldn't believe he had just done that.

The rain let up, and he shoved his sword in the sand. It took a few seconds, but he got it back to normal. He undid the metal bonds that were holding the now still beast, and breathed out. Part of it went towards the sword, little flecks of blood, iron, and poison seemed to absorb almost instantly. It glowed for a second, and he just hummed to himself.

He breathed again, and the metal ball went back into his bag. Maybe he would use it to craft again. Maybe he would do something better than it was before.

Something came over and squeezed him tightly, stealing his breath away. That thing was quickly followed by something else, that picked both him and the other thing up. It took everything he had to keep from calling the metal to come and protect him.

He somehow knew that attacking the thing that was stifling his breathing was a bad idea.

"Let me down!" He protested. He had to blink a few times before the weird feeling of his power backed away enough for his common sense to take over again. He inhaled though his nose, seeing as his mouth was mostly being blocked.

Citrus and stone.

That was the dominate scent. It just so happened to be one he knew well. He tried to pull away enough to see what exactly was holding him, but the person wasn't letting him go very far.

Dark brown eyes were heavily shadowed, and blood shot. There was worry and relief in those eyes. His own softened.

"I'm fine Jay." He mumbled. A flash of fiery red caught his attention next, telling him that Rankin was the thing that reached him first.

His eyes glanced around, and sure enough, a few steps away, was the dark haired, light eyed Keenan, who was glaring at him. He wouldn't let himself flinch back, and met the glare straight on with a raised eyed eyebrow.

Keenan sauntered over. "Well, well, what have we here."

Rankin let him go, and sent an exasperated look over his shoulder. "Quit trying to stab him with a glare, Kee, it won't work."

While Rankin was dealing with his partner, Werner turned his attention to his.

Jarlan didn't look very happy with him. The darker man reached up suddenly, and smacked him soundly in the back of his head.

"Ouch!"

Jarlan shoved him back, and he fell on his butt. He was glad that the sword was still resting near the leviathan and not strapped to his back. The elder wasn't done yet, and yanked him back up by his tunic.

"If you ever do that again, I will find a way to bring you back and make every single person in Blood on the Blade hand you things until your bawling like a baby. Do I make myself clear?" Jarlan's deep voice made him shiver slightly. The older man was really, really mad. He had to be to threaten him with something like that.

Werner knew how to deal with an angry Jarlan though. He made his eyes wider, and hunched down slightly. "Yes Jarlan."

Jay smacked him again. "I'm not letting you out of my sight for the next month."

The other was fighting back a smile, and Werner knew he had won. "Yes Jarlan."

It was weird. Jarlan was back to normal, or so it seemed, but now he seemed really uncomfortable.

"Um, you should know Keenan was the one who figured out where you were going." Jarlan was scratching the back of his head, and that by itself was enough to make Werner's hackles rise.

Instead, he took a deep, calming breath, and turned to look around him.

There had to be at least fifteen hundred solider waiting behind them. Well, it was more like they were behind three people that he wished to never see again, that happened to be waiting for him to turn his attention to them.

The first was a rather uncomfortable looking knight. Mather, decked out in full knights armor at that. His helmet was tucked to his side. His black hair was slightly ruffled, and his hazel eyes were bloodshot. The knight looked tired, but would live.

Next was a man he knew as Landric. His hair was starting to clump together and fall down the sides of his face in thick curls. He was also in heavy armor, with a sword by his side.

Before he moved his attention to the next, his eyes widened. His sword. He needed to get his sword and make sure it didn't feel like stealing any souls. He turned, and walked towards the corpse. He couldn't help but chuckle.

He was sure that the others thought he was losing his mind, but as soon as he realized what he was seeing, the words Saif had threatened him with earlier had flooded his mind.

That sword you have is cursed. You will be dead by the end of the week. Mark my words, what you have discovered was best left for those long buried to know. You will be running and hiding for the rest of your life.

He may have a cursed sword, but he wasn't the dead one. He was the one causing the death of another. He was sure that he could run and hide for the rest of his life, but he was also sure that he would spend a good amount of time fighting and protecting too.

A hand touched his shoulder, then pulled back.

He grimaced. This was the one person he didn't want to see.

"Turn around, Werner." The voice told him. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and did as he was asked.

To his surprise, his brother gripped him in a tight hug. Darius was clinging to him like he was a lifeline. His twin brother buried his face in Werner's neck.

He wasn't really sure how he was supposed o react, and his eyes shot to Jarlan, who looked just as uncomfortable as he felt. Werner's eyes widened.

Jarlan just nodded.

The ass had told his brother where he was going.

Jarlan had snitched on him, to Darius of all people.

Darius' grip tightened on him, and Werner, very, very carefully, lifted his arms to rest on his brother.

"Don't ever do that again!" Darius choked out. "You… you could have died Werner! I've already lost Ash, and who knows if we'll see mom and dad again. I'm all you have left, and you're all I have."

Werner wasn't exactly sure what to make of that. He had to wonder what the other saw. Did they see the illusions? Or were they even sure what happened? For all he knew, the only thing they saw was the leviathan fall over dead and start to explode in a way. Yeah, that was probably all that they saw.

"I…" Werner wasn't sure what the other wanted to hear.

"I know you don't like to lie. Promise me that you won't do that again! Promise that you won't go after something like that again!" Darius clinched his tunic tighter, and Werner knew he was in a bad place.

He hated to lie, and he knew that he would do this again, if he had to. If his brother tried to go after the others without him, he would do it. Easily.

He wouldn't even feel badly about it.

"Only if you promise not to go after them without me."

Darius backed away a step, and ran a hand through his hair. "I have an army Werner."

"And I have this!" The ball of metal was summoned from his bag. He lifted his hand, and twitched his fingers, separating the large ball into what could be thousands of sharp, deadly shards. Another twitch, and it melted together again, swirling into a ball of molten metal's of different types.

He squeezed his fist shut, and yanked his arm back. The metal went back into the bag, narrowing as it went through the mouth of the bag.

"I can do things I shouldn't be able to do! I can manipulate metal with my mind! I can create illusions strong enough to fool the senses! This world has destroyed what little normalcy I had at home!" Werner reached up and yanked at his redish locks. "I can do this for a reason, Darius, and until I can go home, I will use this to do what I can. This I can do. This I can understand! Don't call yourself my twin when you try and keep me from the only sane things I can do in this fucked up world!"

Jarlan got closer to him, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Once he was sure he could speak without yelling, he locked eyes with his brother again.

"What kind of older brother would I be if I let you try and fight things that can easily kill you?" Darius asked.

"I don't need an older brother to protect me anymore! I need a brother who can trust me to know what I can and can't do." Werner told him. He needed someone who would trust him more than protect him. He could easily protect himself. He had learned how to out of necessity, but trust, that was another story all together.

Darius wanted to argue, but, to his surprise, Mather came over and joined them, giving the other soldiers a look. They all turned away and started talking amongst themselves.

It was strange, but somehow, he knew that Mather was to Darius as Jarlan was to him. It was weird how Mather and Jarlan avoided the eyes of the other, and obviously didn't want to be there, but stayed for them.

"Fine." Darius agreed finally, glancing over his shoulder and meeting the eyes of his guard. "You can come with us. Maybe we'll be able to bring more men home with you and your…" He trailed off, glancing over Werner's shoulder.

He followed, and froze. Botolf, Rankin, Keenan, even Helice and Aldora were waving happily at him.

Keenan smirked, and rolled his eyes.

"We've been together for months. When you joined our group, you became one of us. We protect our own, flower." Jarlan muttered in his ear.

"Flower?" Darius asked, perking up. Werner groaned, and ducked his head.

That was the last thing he wanted to deal with. Darius was insufferable enough without knowing that a large group of people all called him Flower.

Once more, he cursed Erasmus for calling him that of all things.

Jarlan was happily sharing with his brother the lovely nickname, and Werner groaned.

He was almost positive that by the end of the night, they would be sharing their nicknames for him with each other. Werner had to admit, he wasn't looking forward to either of them realizing that Salix was a type of plant.

Werner bumped into Darius, then Jarlan, and smirked.

As soon as he was far enough away, he called for both of them, jiggling Jarlan's money pouch and Darius' signet before taking off in a sprint through the crowds of soldiers.

He knew he would be dead when they caught him, but, for now, at least they weren't coming up with even more ways to make his days worse.

THE END


End file.
